A Light in the Darkness: Obscured
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?
1. Chapter One: To Battle

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

 _What's Gone on Before_

Shot entering a courthouse in our world, a stranger comes to Narnia one year into the Pevensies' reign. This stranger, Katerina Alambiel, gains the trust of young Queen Lucy even though others suspect she might be a witch. Still, she is allowed to remain in Cair Paravel as a guest. Oreius begins to earn her trust as she earns his. When the evil sorcerer, Jannes, takes Lucy, Katerina Alambiel is accused of being an accomplice even as she crafts a plan to rescue the Valiant Queen. Infiltrating the sorcerer's lair, Katerina Alambiel leaves a trail for Oreius and the Kings allowing them to rescue Lucy. Katerina Alambiel pursues and kills Jannes with Oreius' aid (Full story: _Awakened_ ).

After six months of finding a niche in the daily life and routine of Cair Paravel (Full story: _Shields_ ), Katerina Alambiel is counted as a friend rather than a guest by the Four and by General Oreius. She accompanies High King Peter and Queen Susan on a trip, unaware that another sorcerer intends to frame her as the High King's assassin. Just before parting ways with Susan, dark secrets in Katerina Alambiel's past are revealed. A pair of assassins frames Katerina Alambiel in two attacks on the High King's life before she and a badly wounded Peter are captured by the sorcerer, Jambres. As he tortures them, Jambres reveals that Katerina Alambiel is part Human and part Narnian. Katerina Alambiel interferes with Jambres' attempt to kill Peter, taking the brunt of the spell herself before Oreius and the other Narnians rescue them. Aslan confirms to Katerina Alambiel that she is both Human and Narnian, and that her Narnian heritage is that of Nymph and Centaur due to her mother being the Nymph daughter of a Centaur, before charging her with the task of searching for the identity of her birth family, thereby unlocking the forgotten memories of her early childhood. Katerina Alambiel survives the spell with the addition of two white streaks in the front of her hair as souvenirs and Peter decides to knight her into his chivalric order for her actions (Full story: _Shadowed_ ).

Two years after being knighted Dame Sepphora of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Katerina Alambiel is nearing the end of her search for the identity of her Narnian birth family. While her long-forgotten memories begin to resurface, she runs afoul of Count Hendrik of Sisemaal, one of Narnia's allies. Afterwards, Katerina Alambiel discovers that she was born Alambiel, daughter of Lew the last King of Narnia, and the only survivor of Jadis' massacre of the original royal family. Before Katerina Alambiel can decide how to handle the information, she and King Edmund go on a border patrol but are captured by the vengeful disgraced Count Hendrik and his cousin, Heikki, who leads a group of mercenaries employed by the Witch Medea. As Peter and Oreius lead a huge rescue party to find them, Edmund and Katerina Alambiel are tormented by Medea. Peter and Oreius rescue them just after Medea turns Katerina Alambiel over to Heikki and Hendrik and prepares to kill Edmund. Medea is defeated and her forces routed and scattered. Katerina Alambiel swears Oreius and the four other Narnians who know the truth of her identity to secrecy (Full story: _Revealed_ ).

Two and a half years after the incident with Medea and the Sisemaalian mercenaries, Werewolves and Hags plot to resurrect Jadis through the sacrifice of royal blood. While General Oreius and the Kings are on a diplomatic journey to Archenland, Oreius is forced to reexamine his feelings for Katerina Alambiel. In the absence of the General and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel and Queen Susan are ambushed by Werewolves and Susan is spirited away to be the sacrifice. Katerina Alambiel and her small party pursue the Werewolves but without the aid of the soldiers led by General Oreius and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel offers herself as a trade. With Katerina Alambiel now prisoner of the Fell, the remaining soldiers and Susan finally meet up with the Kings and Oreius. While the injured Susan is rushed back to the Cair and the healing power of Lucy's cordial, Oreius and the Kings seek to rescue Katerina Alambiel before the Fell ceremony on Winter Solstice and the truth of Katerina Alambiel's royal heritage is revealed to the Four. Oreius and the Kings disrupt the ceremony and aid in Katerina Alambiel's escape. Upon returning to the Cair, Katerina Alambiel presents the Four with an edict resolving many potential issues concerning her heritage, which is now common knowledge, but Oreius waits for a better time to reveal to Katerina Alambiel that he cares for her as more than a friend (Full Story: _Concealed_ ).

Almost six months after having her royal heritage become common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel travels as the Princess Royal with General Oreius on a diplomatic mission to the country of Zelaia. On their last night in Zelaia, Katerina Alambiel comes to the realization that she loves Oreius. However, before either one speaks up, they are captured by slavers and sold into the underground world of the Blood Games. Forced to fight by the man who bought them, Katerina Alambiel and Oreius teeter on the brink of despair. They finally escape with another fighter and return to Narnia. Once they recover from their wounds, Oreius and Katerina Alambiel confess their love to each other and are now courting in secret (Full Story: _Rekindled_ ).

A little over five months after Katerina Alambiel and Oreius return to Narnia, they travel with Peter on a diplomatic trip to Telmar. However, due to treachery on part of one of the Lords of the Council of Telmar, the three are forced to end negotiations early and attempt to leave Telmar. Before they can cross the border, mercenaries attack them. Oreius stays behind, allowing Peter and a wounded Katerina Alambiel to escape. Once Katerina Alambiel is in the care of healers, Peter sneaks back into Telmar to discover Oreius' fate. When he finally finds the mercenaries though, he is captured. Tormented by the mercenary leader, Peter is then forced to fight for his and Oreius' freedom. After winning their freedom, the mercenaries once again ambush Peter and Oreius but the fight ends with the mercenary leader dead and Peter gravely wounded. Receiving guidance from an unexpected source, Oreius carries the wounded and, at times, delirious Peter through Telmar and the Western Wilds until they finally return to Narnia. Once he receives the cordial, Peter becomes betrothed to the Beech Nymph, Thalia, whom he's been courting for some time (Full Story: _Lion and Flower_ ), while Oreius and Katerina Alambiel choose to wait to announce their courtship until Peter and Thalia's wedding (Full Story: _Refracted_ ).

A month after Peter and Oreius' return to Narnia, a diplomatic party sets sail for the Seven Isles to represent Narnia at the wedding of the Governor's son. Soon Edmund, Lucy, and Tarrin Peridanson are separated from the rest of their party including Oreius and Katerina Alambiel who are still courting in secret. The search for their missing charges leads them through storms and into the company of a questionable character. Meanwhile, Edmund, Tarrin, and Lucy are unaware that their situation is not all that it seems. When Lucy discovers the truth, matters take a deadly turn and it is a race against time to defeat their hidden enemy. Tarrin Peridanson sacrifices himself to save his King and Queen, but is revived by the cordial upon their return to Narnia. Oreius and Katerina Alambiel's courtship is forced into the open and then Tarrin Peridanson is knighted Sir Delos of the Most Noble Order of the Table (Full Story: _Reflected_ ).

A little under three months after Oreius and Katerina Alambiel's courtship becomes common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel is discovered unconscious and tormented almost to the point of death on Narnia's northern border. When she wakes with no memory, not even of Oreius and their love, the mystery surrounding her abduction deepens while Narnia's enemies plot to use her as the linchpin to destroy Narnia. Oreius and the Kings race to discover what happened to Katerina Alambiel and whether she can still be trusted when she cannot remember them. Oreius also makes the painful decision to conceal the evidence of his and Alambiel's relationship even to the point of letting her go entirely. Eventually Alambiel's memory returns and they rekindle their romance. (Full Story: _Veiled_ ).

After Katerina Alambiel and Oreius marry (Full Story: _Fireworks_ ), a battle between Narnia and Fell forces results in a sorcerer being confronted by Aslan and losing his magic. As Alambiel and Oreius adjust to married life, the sorcerer Markus must choose whether to turn his life over to Aslan or to continue in his destructive ways. The sorcerer's choice and his presence in Cair Paravel disturb many but Alambiel insists he is needed. As months pass, a threat greater than the former sorcerer comes to light and threatens Narnia's peace. Though Oreius maintains a cautious watch over the sorcerer, Markus gains ground with the Queens and grows close to the Gentle in particular. When the true nature of the threat is exposed, Markus regains his magic for one last time and Narnia is saved. (Full Story: _Unveiled_ ).

A little over three years since the events of _Unveiled_ , Peter, Edmund, and Oreius set out on an inspection of the northern border after a series of raids by Fell Giants. Their simple errand turns to tragedy as Giants ambush their party killing all save the Kings and the General. The Kings they carry off with the wicked intent of letting two Harfang Giantesses pick which one will give them children in an effort to elevate the Harfang Giants above their kindred. But, Oreius is left for dead after being severely wounded. Meanwhile, Narnia prepares for the visit from Calormene crown prince, Rabadash, who has demanded that all Four royals be present or else. When they learn of the ambush, Katerina Alambiel, Thalia, and Lucy take the Greyback brothers and Peter's Tigers in pursuit of the Giants while Susan must find a way to delay the prince's imminent arrival. Oreius struggles to cling to life and the Kings try to escape or, failing that, delay the Giants as much as possible. It's a race against time to find their missing loved ones and the northern Giants prove themselves to be even more dangerous than expected. Eventually, the Kings and Oreius are rescued, though all are badly injured, and they return to Cair Paravel. But now Peter is determined to halt the Giant threat in the North. (Full Story: _Eclipsed_ ).

 ** _A Light in the Darkness: Obscured_**

Chapter One: To Battle . . .

13 Mayblossom 1014

"I knows you, little King! I's knows you! Kin killer!" The Ettin howled with bloodlust blazing in his single good eye. The massive spiked club swung through the air and narrowly avoided plowing into Peter's horse.

The mare neighed in fear as she pranced backwards. Peter's legs tightened infinitesimally around her barrel and she stopped short in her retreat, though she was still puffing and sidestepping, as he raised Rhindon in silent challenge. Kin killer. The Ettin had been among the brutes who wanted to eat his brother and he dared to call him a kin killer. Peter leaned low against Frost's neck, his faceplate brushing against her dark mane as the Giant swung once more and this time Peter felt a spike tear into his tabard and scrape against his mail shirt. Thank Aslan the brute was too thick to consider simply pounding him instead of trying to scrape him off Frost's back.

Peter touched his heels to her sides and the brave little mare leapt forward. He sat up, swinging Rhindon with all his might toward the Giant's outstretched fingers. The Ettin howled again, this time in pain and outrage as he yanked his wounded hand away, but Peter did not give him time to recover. Standing up straight in the stirrups, he thrust his pikestaff into the Ettin's gut. The Ettin's dirty tunic and mismatched armor left all of his vital organs exposed to the pikestaff's sharp point and he cried out as he dropped in his club in favor of clutching uselessly at his wound. As Frost galloped past the Giant, Peter switched Rhindon to his right hand and then sliced through the dying Ettin's hamstring.

Regaining the saddle, Peter took up Frost's reins once more and turned the mare's head so he could survey the battlefield. Everywhere he looked there were Giants battling Narnians. The only way to tell the few Narnian Giants apart was by the fact they were wearing proper armor. Peter guided his horse away from the Narnian Giants as he headed back into the fray. He didn't want to accidentally attack one of his own people.

The Ettins were putting up a half-decent fight again. Peter grit his teeth when he caught sight of some of the archers being menaced by two odious Giants. The Nymph and two Fauns were standing firm, Aslan bless them, but their quivers were nearly empty and the Giants' large helmets were doing too good a job of protecting them from the arrows' stinging bites for his liking. Peter raised Rhindon high in the air as he bellowed, "For Narnia! And for Aslan!"

"For Narnia! For Aslan!"

Soldiers all around him rallied at his cry, some even running to join him, but he cared not as he spurred Frost into a gallop. He unslung his shield from his back and raised it protectively as one of the Giants turned with a stupid laugh to face him. There was no turning back. Peter's breathing slowed to the familiar measured paces of battle. He blotted the image of his family from his mind's eye. All of his attention focused on the Ettin's leering face. The bulbous nose, piggish eyes gleaming with avarice, the mouth gaping in a stupid grin as he laughed. This was the face of his enemy. This was one of the faces that haunted his dreams. He could feel the reverberations of Frost's pounding hooves and he silently counted off the remaining paces. Eight, seven, six. The leer started to fade. Five, four. Worry finally crept into the small eyes. Three, two, one. Peter shouted a wordless battle cry as his blade flashed through the air, cutting through tendons and sending the Ettin to his knees. With far more mercy than he would have been shown, Peter finished the Giant with a swift thrust to the gullet.

He turned his face away from the blood and the life leaking from the Giant's expression. Frost sidestepped and tossed her head but still she obeyed when he tapped her with his heel again. A Bruin had confronted the other Ettin. Peter urged Frost forward. Two of the archers were no longer fighting, the Nymph holding the darker of the Fauns against her as she crouched on the ledge, but the Faun whose reddish-brown legs were frosted by age still fought on, his kind face hard and determined as he peppered the Ettin with arrows. But the rivulets of blood streaming down the Ettin's face did not stop him from turning on the Bruin. Peter shouted and kicked free of the stirrups but it was too late. The Giant's hands closed on the Bruin's head and a sickening crack filled the air. Gorge surged up Peter's throat as the faithful Bruin collapsed but he swallowed it down. He leapt free of the saddle, rage burning hot in his veins, and charged forward, mounting a small boulder and then leaping at the Giant, Rhindon slashing. The Ettin cried out as the blade cut through his tunic and scored a deep wound along his side. His cry of pain hit a new note when one of the Faun's arrows found its mark and bit deep into the flesh just to the side of his eye. Peter called a warning just as the Giant flung his hand out, catching the Faun archer in the side and flinging him against the mountainside. The archer collapsed to the ledge, his arms and legs akimbo and his neck twisted at an angle.

Peter turned on the Ettin who dared to laugh as though he had merely thrown a ball or knocked over toy blocks. The rage that had spurred him on now flared to an inferno. Every battle it was the same. The cruel Northern Giants laughed as they maimed and killed and consumed his people. The Ettin before him now laughed coarsely and then he drew a carving knife from his belt and dragged the Bruin's body closer. "I'd rather had goatmen but bear meat can be good too. Have some, little king, 'ere I add you to my cookin' pot."

"Such a crime will not be permitted, by Aslan. Not while I still have breath!"

Rhindon cut deep into the Ettin's wrist, nearly severing it. The Ettin screamed and finally fear entered his face but it was too late to calm Peter's wrath. He pressed on the attack, ducking under the Ettin's clumsy swing of his knife, and then he buried Rhindon up to the hilt between the Ettin's ribs.

As the Ettin sagged to the ground, Peter stopped beside the Bruin even knowing there was nothing more anyone could do for him. He bowed his head and whispered a quick prayer then scrambled up onto the ledge. The Nymph was applying pressure to the darker Faun's wound but the amount of blood soaking through his armor and the makeshift bandage was alarming.

Each breath was ragged and gasping. Peter's lips thinned as he met the Nymph's solemn gaze. They both knew the Faun was unlikely to survive. Peter waved a Centaur over. "Take Artus to the healers. Quickly!"

He didn't stay to watch the Centaur carry the wounded Faun away. Grief, rage, and determination to end this threat spurred him ever onward. Nor did he care that Frost had finally bolted from the battlefield. The little mare wasn't suited to intense fighting against such large creatures anyway. He raised his shield and once more threw himself into battle, harrying the nearest Ettins by slashing at their legs and then ending them or by distracting them so that another soldier might finish them. He didn't know how much time passed, hours it seemed, as sweat trickled down his back and also threatened to blind him despite the cloth he had bound around his temple before putting on his helmet but still he fought.

A low growl penetrated the battle fog as he freed Rhindon from another Ettin's throat. Peter turned to see Bast standing on the Giant's legs. The Tigress' green eyes were flat and her tail lashed the air as she growled again. "The Ettins have fallen back, Sire."

Peter stared at her almost uncomprehendingly for a moment but then the meaning of her words registered and he nodded. "Good." He stepped away from the Ettin and turned his back on the sorry sight even as he searched in vain for a patch of clean grass or soft soil with which to rid Rhindon of the blood now covering it. Finally, he yanked a patch from the Ettin's torn sleeve and wiped down the blade. "Have they started to gather our injured?"

"Yes, My King."

"The General's given orders for the dead to be collected too, Your Majesty." Babur was panting heavily but he shared his sister's fierce appearance as he continued to scan the battlefield, no doubt searching for any Ettins who might have thought to play dead.

Peter sighed as he sheathed Rhindon. His arms suddenly felt limp as noodles and it took far too much effort before he could will them to take up his shield again. He shoved the faceplate of his helmet up and scanned the battleground for himself. Many Ettins lay unmoving, at least fifteen this time, but the group had been about twice that size when they attacked and there were far more Narnians who lay on the ground. Some of them would be alive and others would not. They had not entered a single battle since arriving in the north that had not resulted in loss of life. The numbers were not as devastating on paper but Peter could not shake the guilt that settled like a heavy mantle on his shoulders with every life lost.

He paced through the battlefield, pausing to check on fallen soldiers and praying every time that he would find them still alive, still fighting to survive. Kneeling beside a young archer, a Beech Nymph who reminded him strongly of Thalia with her nut-brown hair though her eyes were brown and not the green of his beloved's, Peter tugged off his gloves and took her limp, bloodied hand in his. "What is your name?"

"T-Tiana of the Shuddering Wood, Your M-Majesty." Her pale lips were stained with red as she struggled to draw breath but she still managed to gasp, "Did we win the day?"

He nodded. "Yes, Lady, we did. But now you must save your strength and recover from your wounds. The healers will be here soon."

She smiled a little, a touch of color blooming in her cheeks, as she whispered, "Your hands are very warm."

Her hands were like ice. Peter smiled back at her. "My wife tells me the same thing sometimes. It seems Sons of Adam are a bit warmer then Beeches. Have you ever been to Cair Paravel, Lady Tiana?"

She nodded. "Training. I met the Princess Consort. She brings our sisters great honor."

Peter squeezed her hands gently, trying to see if he could get any warmth in those slender fingers again, as he continued talking, "I am wholly blessed by her. Indeed, every Beech Nymph I have met has been quite gracious to me. When we return to Cair Paravel, remind me and I shall have my sisters and lady wife invite you to tea. The girls love it when we have guests. And an archer who has battled Giants? Why, Lucy will be craving your stories. What say you, Lady Tiana?"

She smiled and parted her lips, a rattling breath escaping rather than words, then her cold fingers slipped from his hold as her gaze became unfocused. Death clouded her eyes just as two Satyrs ran up with a litter. Peter hung his head and reached out with trembling fingers to close the Nymph's eyes. Lurching to his feet, he stepped back as the Satyrs moved with less urgency now to pick up the body that no longer needed a healer's attention.

"My King?"

He glanced down at Babur who raised a large paw and pointed across the rocky ground. "The healers have recovered the last of the wounded. The General wishes to set up a perimeter and enquires as to whether you will join him for a meal."

Peter looked around and finally spotted Oreius standing on the edge of the rocky plateau. The Centaur was engaged in an intense conversation with one of the Gryphons but Peter knew he had to be watching him as well. Oreius didn't request that he have supper with him except when he thought Peter was either brooding too much or not eating enough . . . or both. He nodded and forced himself to stride with more confidence than he currently felt toward the camp. Today was a victory, after all, and the soldiers needed their High King to be confident.

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Culhwch sprawled in his makeshift throne, using a broken femur still greasy from the meat to pick at a hoof that had gotten stuck in his back teeth. Once the hoof was worked free, he spat it on the ground and then allowed his second head to continue sucking the marrow from the bone as his other head observed the uneasy gathering. Leaders of the Ettin clans (of which he was foremost though he hadn't taken the throne away from Grog yet) dined on the vittles they had captured in battle with wary eyes fixed on their fellows and he was pleased to see that he drew the majority of the wary glances. He smirked but said nothing, which caused the Giants nearest him to shift a little further away.

His smirk faded as a tall Giantess strode into the camp. Her black eyes were cold and assessing, her dress was adorned with fine chains and a belt of skulls was fastened about her hips, and, in her left hand, she held the war spear of Harfang. Had Morrigan not been so determined to keep the throne of Harfang in her family line, Culhwch would have tried to win her. However, he also knew that her husbands and lovers tended to die early deaths. Though, that might change now that her heirs were reduced. Morrigan's gaze swept over them all and then she laughed. "Defeated again? You let the puny Son of Adam and his trained beasts drive you before them as though you were whipped dogs."

Grog swore at her before heaving his bulk up (though he needed the two young Giants who attended him to aid in this task) and limping toward Morrigan. "You did not send your men to fight the Narnians, Morrigan. It is you who are coward, not me."

Morrigan's eyes glittered but she only smiled as she patted Grog on the cheek. "I am not a coward. I am smart. I do not send my men yet because I want the Narnians to come further north. The summer will not last so long in our lands and we will have the advantage as the Narnians shiver and break, wishing for their mild lands. We are strong. We are Giants of the North, no matter which clan we came from, and we are stronger than the Narnians. We shall have a fat winter when the soldiers are ours."

Culhwch, unable to tolerate the Giantess' games, belched loudly and scratched at his armpit as he interrupted, "Fat winter maybe. What about spring? We have been fighting the Narnians for a fortnight while you watched safe in your castle. We all agreed to a council. I say we strike the Narnians with all our forces now and send them to the cooking pots now so we might enjoy Narnia's mild winters for ourselves this year."

His fellow Ettins murmured in agreement, several smacking their lips as they no doubt imagined the promises of food and anything was better than the bitter cold and blizzards that plagued them in their barren lands. Their herds and hounds needed fresh land too. The wild creatures were not so plentiful near their keeps anymore. And venison and steak and pork grew bland with nothing to make it taste better like a bit of goatmen legs or man pie. Grog had an especially greedy expression in place as he rubbed his bulging belly with fat hands. "Aye, makes sense."

"Fools," Morrigan breathed. Then she shoved Grog hard, sending him tumbling back so abruptly that his attendants could not catch him before he toppled over a cooking pot. The Giantess glared at them all, her hand tightening around the haft of the war spear, as she hissed, "There are many Narnians, many soldiers, who hunt for us now. We must be smarter than them. We must weaken them and make them long for their soft homes and soft women and rich food until they do not fight so strongly."

Culhwch eyed her as he sucked the marrow from another bone. "And if we do things your way, Morrigan, what will you give us?"

She smirked at him. "More than even you can imagine."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Here we are again with another entry in my _A Light in the Darkness_ series and, as promised, number Eleven deals with Peter's northern campaign but we'll also touch on events surrounding and behind the scenes of _The Horse and His Boy_. So, I have mapped this story out and it is going to be a long one. I'm also working on other projects so I'm not sure how often I'll be posting but I'll try for at least once a week. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	2. Chapter Two: Of Two Princes

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Two: Of Two Princes

17 Mayblossom 1014

"Perhaps, O My Hostess, you should refrain from any activity that might cause you distress?"

Just how bad could it be if she smacked the annoying radish? Alambiel glanced over at where Stonebrook was standing, arms folded over his flowing beard, and a warning glint in his eyes as he met her gaze. She suppressed a sigh and once again reminded herself that smacking the annoying radish was frowned upon. Instead, she offered him a closed-lipped smile. "I thank you for your concern, Prince Rabadash, but I am recovered enough that a short stroll around the garden should not cause me any great distress."

And there was no power in this world or any other that would convince her to leave the Rabid Radish alone with Susan. The peacock stared down his nose at her yet still managed to appear solicitous in his manners (how he managed it she didn't know) then he offered a short bow. "As it is said, O Lady, the patient may be wiser than the physician." Straightening, he offered an arm covered in bright orange silk to Susan. "O Delight of My Eyes, will you not be merciful enough to accompany me through these gardens? They are much different from those found in the palace of my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) but they seem suited to the Northern beauty I have grown so fond of in the days since the gods blessed me to set foot in your strange land."

Would he ever leave? That is what Alambiel wanted to know though she thought she did quite well in keeping her exasperation with the Calormene prince and his unctuous manners hidden. Stonebrook frowned at her and she made a face then got out of her chair with just a touch more caution than she liked to admit. Her knee immediately threatened to buckle and Ptah gave her a look before rather pointedly nudging the cane she had been forced to use for the last two weeks. It was better than bed rest. She just had to remember it was better than bed rest as she snatched the cane up then hobbled to catch up to where Susan and the Rabid Radish were walking slowly through the southern gardens.

As they passed the maze, Alambiel glanced longingly at it, wishing that she could disappear into it and avoided all the annoyances of dealing with Rabadash and also-

A shout rose from the depths of the maze and Alambiel closed her eyes. Another shout of glee sounded, this time much closer, and she opened her eyes in time to see a towheaded blur hurtle into the Calormene prince, knocking him into Susan, and then both adults fell to the ground. The sound of steel sliding free of scabbards made her ignore her injury and rush to the pile. She immediately grabbed Corin by the back of his tunic and yanked him off the others. The two massive slaves who guarded Rabadash glared at her but they finally slid their scimitars back into their sheaths. Rabadash's sickeningly solicitous voice rang false to her ears as he extended both hands to Susan and helped her to her feet. "I crave your pardon, O My Queen, for it is a foolish man who touches beauty that does not belong to him without declaration of intent. Have you taken any harm?"

Susan shook her head as she extracted her hands from his. "No, Prince Rabadash, and I thank you for your concern. I hope you will forgive young Prince Corin for the boy (I am certain) meant no harm to either you or me."

There was the slightest twitch in his dark cheek but the Rabid Radish did not fly into the rage Alambiel expected. Instead, he tugged on his oiled beard and then bowed over Susan's hand, the feather in his turban swaying as he did so. "Alas, young boys can be most reckless but your kindness is most beauteous, O My Queen, and I shall not take the boy to task for it shall please you."

"Take me to task? I'd like to see you- Ow!" Corin yelped and squirmed as much as he dared in an attempt to escape the hold Alambiel now had on his ear, but at least it shut him up before he went and blundered merrily into a diplomatic incident worse than any _she_ had created over the years. "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Alambiel quickly flashed Susan a smile. "I believe I should see that the young prince does not miss his afternoon lecture. Come along now, your highness." Without waiting for dismissal, she strode (as much as her injured knee would allow) back toward the palace with Corin in tow and still yelping from her grip on his ear. Only once they were out of earshot of the Calormene flunkies who were always trailing after the Rabid Radish did she stop. Releasing the boy, Alambiel glared at him. "Corin, how oft must thou be lectured on proper princely decorum before it sinks into thy thick head?"

He stared at her with a mutinous pout as he rubbed his afflicted ear but it seemed her use of the courtly accent stilled his tongue. For a moment or two, at least. Then Corin's fair face screwed up into a full-blown scowl as his blue eyes flashed with temper. "You heard him, Dame Sepphora! He thought he could take me to task! I want to box him! He's a silly peacock, anyways."

"I don't care if he is or not. You cannot box the Crown Prince of Calormen, especially when he's in Narnia as a guest."

"But, Dame Sepphora-"

She raised her hand and tapped the crown currently around her temples. "Do I look like I'm Dame Sepphora right now, boy? You know the rules. I know you know the rules. So, calling me 'Dame Sepphora' isn't going to get me to let you box Prince Rabadash _or_ any of his guards and attendants like you tried to yesterday." The boy's scowled managed to darken further but she ignored it. Susan and Lucy had coddled Corin far too much. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow. "And if I recall correctly, you are supposed to be having a lesson in diplomacy with King Edmund in ten minutes time."

Corin pulled a face. "I do not want to go! King Edmund never lets me box anyone outside the training yard even when it's the best solution! I'd much rather play with Shane and Thane. They don't have to have lessons in diplomacy."

"Their lessons only occur at different times of the day from yours, Corin." Edmund quirked a dark eyebrow as the boy spun to face him, a gleam of humor shining in his dark eyes for a moment, and then he held out his hand. "Come now, your highness, it is time for you to have that lesson then I have arranged for you to box with Thornbutt before you'll have the rest of the time between the end of your lessons and supper to spend with Thane and Shane."

The boy took his hand with great reluctance and Alambiel found herself once again torn between amusement and annoyance as she watched them leave. Corin was a menace. A spoilt menace. And when he wasn't so determined to box a Calormene (and she wasn't the one who had to deal with him), he was a hilarious distraction from the Kentauri being gone. And . . . her knee was throbbing.

"Your highness."

She looked over her shoulder (not daring to test whether her knee would support her movement) and then held out her hand to accept the cane proffered by a Faun. Still, she tried not to put too much of her weight on it or limp a lot as she made her way into the palace. Ptah was staring at her. She grit her teeth then murmured, "Not a word."

"What about a dozen? Or a score or more? The General would certainly say that many if not more when he learns you have been aggravating your injury instead of following the healers' instruction."

"You mean _if_ he learns about it, which he won't because no one is going to tell him. He's far too busy to be bothered with such a trivial matter." Alambiel grimaced and leaned more heavily on the cane as her knee threatened to give out entirely as she opened the doors to her quarters. Just a few more steps. Shutting the door behind them, she glanced down at Ptah then chose to ignore his warning look in favor of limping toward the bedchamber. "Besides, I just need to wrap a cold pack around it and then-" She cut herself off as her knee finally gave out only steps away from the bed and she landed hard on her rump. She sucked in a deep breath, fighting against expressing the sharp lances of pain now radiating through her knee. "Ouch."

Ptah gave her a scolding look even as he came over and allowed her to use him for leverage so she could drag herself over to the bed. He also brought the towel-wrapped cold pack over to her. "Shall I summon Leeta?"

"No, I'm fine." Alambiel sat up and quickly placed the cold pack over her swollen knee while Ptah was in the other room. She managed to give him a wan smile when he returned. "Truly, Ptah, I don't need the healers to come and fuss over me or to worry Oreius unnecessarily."

The Leopard gave her a knowing look. "You are waiting for the next letter."

"Everyone is waiting for their next letter."

"The General would not consider your well-being a trivial matter."

Alambiel had closed her eyes as she laid back against the pillows but she opened them at that. "My job is to make sure he doesn't get distracted by worries over what's happening here at home. He needs to be focused on his present task, which does not include me."

"He loves you."

She smiled then reached out to scratch behind the Leopard's ear. "I know. But he doesn't need to worry about me. I'd much rather he remain preoccupied with the Giants and keeping Peter out of trouble."

Ptah nudged her hand with his nose. "I am certain, my lady, that the General misses you as much as you miss him."

He didn't have to live in quarters that seemed too large without her Kentauri's presence filling up space. She doubted Oreius' tent seemed too large. How she wished she hadn't been injured. She would feel infinitely better if she were there fighting by Oreius' side and making sure his hidden hurts were tended to at night because her Kentauri was too stubborn to let the healers tend him. A little sigh escaped her as she remembered sparring with Oreius to sharpen their skills before a battle. Couldn't do that either.

"There is talk that the northern threat will be handled by summer's end, if not by Midsummer's Day."

"Optimistic." Alambiel didn't say anything else. No one knew how long the campaign would last. It was far too early to make a decent estimate. Oreius had danced around the subject when they last spoke of it (the day before he left) and she hadn't the heart to press him now. Not yet, at least. She knew too well how an army on campaign could sometimes be unaware of where they would make camp for the night, much less when the campaign would end.

"My lady?"

"Mmm?"

"I've a solution for what you might use your cane for."

"Oh?"

"Take it to the young prince and teach him manners."

She laughed. "Oh that is wicked of you, my friend." She laughed again then tucked her hands behind her head. "No, I could not do that even if I were inclined to beat the boy. The cane would break before that method worked on him. Besides I fear it is too late to undo the boy's spoiling. We can only hope to curb it before he attains the throne."

She laughed a little more, knowing the Leopard's outrageous suggestion came solely from his attempt to distract her from feeling lonely. Her knee ached. Her heart ached for Oreius' company or just a letter, no matter how brief. But she supposed it was not the absolute worst way to spend one's birthday. Now if only Susan would rid them all of the Rabid Radish.

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20 Mayblossom 1014

Stillness save for the distant sound of the waves lapping at the shore and the occasional call from soldiers on watch filled the night air. She wrapped her arms around herself, almost wishing for a heavy woolen shawl to go over her nightgown and light robe despite the pleasant late spring warmth. What should she do? Every evening on their after-supper stroll, he pressed for an answer to his suit. What should she do? His mannerisms and speech were fair, much fairer than she had expected based on her experiences with other members of his family and the various Tarkaans. But could she stand to leave Narnia? Her family? Her people? But if she did not, what would it take for the Tisroc to finally attempt to gobble up their fair kingdom and suppress it? What should she do?

Susan looked bleakly out over the star-spangled skies and dark sea. She wished she could seek Peter's counsel. Even if he had always been overprotective of her and Lucy regarding the various treaties that proposed the use of a royal marriage to bolster the bond between nations, he understood the tax of duty and the heavier sacrifices the eldest of the Royals were at times required to bear. Of course, he had also married for love. Perhaps she would do better to consult with Edmund. But until then, she would have to continue to speak sweet words that pacified while promising nothing (something she was very skilled at) to the southern prince and delay him as she debated.

Returning to the comfort of her plush bed, the thought still haunted her. What should she do?

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! The two princes . . . I think the Narnians are torn over which one they'd like out from underfoot the most or Rabadash is wining by a slim margin. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	3. Chapter Three: Letters from Home 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Three: Letters from Home 1

 _My Dearest Flower,_

 _I pray this letter finds you well. The . . . Blast Edmund for being so difficult in his restrictions on our letters. Anyways, the campaign goes well and I have high hopes, dearest, that we'll have a fair outcome. Does Susan still entertain our southern guest?_

 _How are you faring? Not too busy, I hope. Oh Thalia, I wished I could say everything that is on my heart but I've not got enough parchment for that. Just know I think of you every chance I get. My hope is to return to you soon._

 _All my love,_

 _Peter_

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 _My Peter,_

 _I am very well. Please stay safe, my love. Though it waters my roots to hear you speak so optimistically, I confess that I count the hours until your next letter with a mix of hope and dread. Be strong, my love._

 _Your sister yet entertains him though the Princess Royal is less than satisfied with his fair promises. But I do not think she has ever cared for him despite his courtesy. With your sisters for company, I am quite busy but it is for the best or I would while away too many hours looking north. Oh do take care of yourself, my strong oak. I pray Aslan hold you betwixt His paws until the day you come home._

 _I love you,_

 _Thalia_

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 _Dear Peter,_

 _The girls have appointed me to be the one to write our letter to you this time. First off, it seems I must remind you (again) that you can't mention anything regarding your progress. You have no idea if letters are being intercepted, you lummox. No sensitive information._

 _Susan says I shouldn't call you names. It's a sign of my regard, you know._

 _(Honestly, Edmund! Peter, dear, do be careful. And make sure you have plenty of warm socks and that you take the time to eat. You're no good to anyone if you faint from hunger.)_

 _This is where you are to write back, "Yes, Mum."_

 _And while we're on the topic, don't help the cooks with anything. You're there to fight the Giants, not poison your own soldiers._

 _Don't forget to duck,_

 _Edmund_

 _(And Susan and Lucy)_

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 _Dear Edmund,_

 _I think I like Lucy and Susan's letters better. I haven't been sharing sensitive information but blast it I have to give Thalia some hope you know. A chap's supposed to comfort his wife._

 _Your regard overwhelms me, O Skinny One._

 _(Hello, Su. Don't worry, if Bast and Babur aren't pestering me about eating, Oreius is making me join him for supper. And no, we don't spend all our time talking business instead of eating. I do miss your pies, though.)_

 _Well, I'm actually too busy to cook anything but if I did, I'm sure my help would be welcome because I AM a good cook. Just ask Thalia._

 _I love you all (even you, Eddie). Take care of each other and look after Thalia._

 _Your Magnificent brother,_

 _Peter_

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 _Alambiel,_

 _Must I remind you again that you are to listen to the healers? And what is this nonsense about that menace of a colt being invited into my training yard?_

 _I trust that you have not allowed your amusement at the fool colt's mischief to override Cair Paravel's safety (or your own). And no, you cannot do anything to any guest of the Four that might be misconstrued as an act of war. The push you referred to would be seen in such a light. If you continue to plot such mischief, I will order Ptah to sit on you until you are willing to behave._

 _Finally, my Milis Cantalach, I would apologize for missing your birthday. However, I didn't forget a present for you . . . if you can find where I hid it. The instructions are in my desk drawer (in our study). However, you are only allowed to search for it if your knee is better._

 _Oreius_

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 _Oreius,_

 _You're one to talk considering how much trouble you gave me last year. And, for the record, I am listening to the healers. I just don't always carry through their instructions. Your training yard? I have no idea. It was probably Edmund's doing. He did let Corin into your armory. But, don't worry, Corin and Peridan's twins cleaned up the mess. You can't even tell there was a disaster in there. And don't you think letting them into the training yard is better than risking them bouncing into diplomats or knocking over carts? They haven't even burned anything down yet._

 _But, Kentauri, the boy's my main source of amusement. What could he do to me? I'm almost not limping now. How would you know? What if he expressed a desire to cool off in the sea and I merely in a completely innocent and accidental fashion helped him fulfill said desire? I'm not plotting. I'm speculating. It's completely different._

 _I suppose I can forgive you provided you take it out on a Fell Giant or two for me. Too late for conditions, you told me where the instructions were (which were rather silly). However, I shall overlook this because I'm quite pleased with the present. Is it odd that I'm more pleased to receive another dagger than any bauble?_

 _I love you too._

 _Take care of yourself,_

 _Alambiel_

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 _Edmund, what did you do?_

 _I warn you, brother mine, the good General has been a very unforgiving mood since he received Kat's letter yestereve. Something about Corin and the training yard? If you value your skin (and don't want to be condemned to many visits to the points of the compass), Ed, I suggest you find a way to explain any presence of Corin in the training yard to a degree that will prove acceptable to Oreius. Also, what did you let Corin and the twins do to the armory? Oreius is going to find a way to kill you from Ettinsmoor._

 _Think (and write) quickly!_

 _Your Magnificent brother,_

 _Peter_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	4. Chapter Four: Too Easy?

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Four: Too Easy?

8 Fairdawn 1014

Oreius studied the map of Ettinsmoor, paying careful attention to the maze of canyons and gullies they were currently fighting in. He marked the Ettin encampment the Gryphons had reported on that morn. The encampment was on the northern side of the canyons and it would not be easy to position the army to entrap the Giants without first giving away their approach. Unless they found a way to lure the Giants into the larger canyon . . .

He sighed, wishing he could send a missive to Alambiel and acquire her opinion on the matter. His minx of a wife always had a suggestion (if not always practical or very serious-minded) and more often than not he could use it to see the situation in a different light. Oreius walked around the map-covered table, attempting to look at it through Alambiel's eyes. It did not take long before he was forced to admit defeat. Alambiel's means of determining plans and possible weak points rested in her very unique way of viewing the world. He saw the military strategies but he could not see the ways around or through those sound strategies, not the way his wife did.

Oreius rubbed the back of his neck as he looked the map over once more. There had to be a way to lure the Giants. They were not a very clever people, after all, and those bands not under the leadership of the two-headed Ettin, Culhwch, were fairly easy to mislead. Yet he could not escape the feeling that this encampment was meant to be a lure in and of itself.

"General!"

He looked over his shoulder as a frantic Faun rushed into his tent. "What is it?"

"The High King has summoned you. He says it is urgent and you are to come at once to the western perimeter."

Oreius frowned but dismissed the Faun, knowing his golden colt would not have given him any more information to pass on, before he left his tent and moved swiftly through the almost silent camp. The High King was standing just beyond the checkpoint, his Tigers on either side of him, with one hand on his sword, which had been buckled over his undertunic. "Majesty?"

Peter turned to him, his eyes alert despite his sleep-mussed appearance, and then nodded to the large Bat dangling from his forearm. "Athelstan brings news."

The Bat curled up in a slight bow then spoke in a deep voice, "General Oreius, the High King bids me share my news. I was set to watch the western paths against any foe who might attempt to steal past our guard. Alas, this night is such a one. A group of fifteen Giants is making its way south. It will take swift prayers and swifter movement to catch them before they approach the border."

Oreius frowned. The Giants' movements were gaining ground but he could not see the pattern . . . "Who leads them?"

"An Ettin with one eye, General."

He turned to his colt, pleased to see that he was growing more alert with every passing moment. "We must cut them off."

"Agreed. We can break down the camp-"

"With respect, My King, I do not think that course wise."

His colt frowned then rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand before he sighed wearily. "All right. What is your advice?"

"Let us take a quarter of our troops. The swiftest soldiers who can also travel silently. The Big Cats can harass the Giants while the Centaurs surround them and aid in driving any who survive back north."

"The Gryphons could carry some of the Dwarf archers and create a more difficult target for the Giants than just sending in archers on the ground," Peter added thoughtfully. He shifted his attention to the Bat. "Athelstan, would you have your people scout the best route for us to intercept the fiends? I don't want any Fell slipping past our borders."

"At once, High King." The Bat curled up into a bow once more and then he dropped from Peter's arm, his huge black wings spreading wide and catching him just before he hit the rocky ground.

Oreius watched the Bat disappear into the night before he bowed to the High King. "I will rouse the troops. Ardon shall take command of the camp in our absence." He started to leave and then paused to consider the colt once more. "Do not take Frost."

A wan smile appeared and Peter laughed softly. "I'm sure Izar will be more than pleased to carry me."

"Very good, My King."

Perhaps he should have ordered Sir Wolfsbane to seek his bed while Oreius led the troops yet he could not deny the pride he felt knowing that the colt would instantly reject such a command. The colt still took to heart the lesson of being first into battle and the last into retreat. If his own foals learned the lesson half as well, he would be more than pleased. Moreover, on this campaign, that lesson will prove even more vital to keeping the troops' spirits up. Oreius glanced up at the stars, noting their position, and then he set about rousing the soldiers he felt were best suited to the task ahead.

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Two hours of silent marching and Oreius raised his hand, signaling the troop behind him to stop. The clouds had gathered overheard, permitting very little light from the stars and moon to reach them, but he was glad of it. The Ettins' steps echoed over the rocky stretch of plain and their muttering and grumbling was even louder. Their own noise deafened them to any approaching foes.

There was the slightest stir of wind above him as the Gryphons bearing the Dwarf archers winged their way closer to the enemy. The Ettins had nearly slowed to a crawl and, judging by the mutters, were giving serious thought to bedding down for the night. Oreius glanced over to his right. Peter, his bright silver armor concealed beneath a dark cloak, sat upon the Unicorn Izar's back with his faceplate still up. He could see the colt's mouth set in a grim, determined line as the Big Cats with Tiger twins in the lead crept through the ranks and then slunk into the clearing, staying low to the point that even Oreius was hard-pressed to pick them out.

The Ettins let out a sudden shout. He tensed, both hands tightening around the hilts of his twin swords, but there was no cry of alarm. Instead, a crude taunt cut through the air, which was swiftly followed by a beery voice shouting, "An' what's we eatin'?"

"Quiet, Dors! We's eats what we's catches, see? Goatmen, horsemen, tender boar, tender ox, maiden stew!"

"An' man pie!"

"I'se hungry now."

"You'se always hungry, Dors. We'se eatin' in Narnia. More food than e'en you'se can eats waitin' fer us."

Rage stirred in Oreius' heart and he yearned to cut off these foul plans at once. Yet, he knew too well that patience was needed this night. He unsheathed his claymore but did not move as the Giants slowly came closer. The shadows had swallowed the Big Cats. Soon. He glanced up at the sky but the clouds and darkness of night shielded the Gryphons from view. Soon. A silent gesture from one of the lieutenants signaled that the rest of the troop was in position to hem in the foul Giants. Three. Two . . .

A Gryphon's shriek rent the air. The Ettins cried out in fear and several near the front of the ragtag column stumbled back into their fellows. Then came the twanging of bows and the hiss of arrows. Three Ettins screamed and reached up blindly, scratching at the arrows embedded in their thick skin. Throaty roars tore through the air and several of the Ettins on the west side cried out and cursed as the Big Cats attacked. Oreius did not move.

One of the Big Cats let out a scream of pain and he saw a lean, dark body kicked across the plain by one of the Ettins. The Giant who had been promising maiden stew to his fellows raised his club, the spikes gleaming faintly in the shrouded moonlight, and bellowed, "Stomp them! Stomp the puny kits!"

Defiant roars answered him and then two more Ettins stumbled back, pawing at their faces, as the Gryphons and Dwarfs continued their assault. Oreius looked to Peter and gave a curt nod. The High King returned his nod, looking pale and grim, before he lowered his faceplate and then raised Rhindon high. "For Narnia! And for Aslan!"

"For Narnia and for Aslan!"

There was no small amount of satisfaction in Oreius' heart when the Ettins cowered at the battle cry before their leader once again cursed them and ordered them to stomp them. The Centaur raised his claymore and reared before he leapt forward, galloping toward the nearest Ettin. Peter was beside him. The soldiers swept after them, all intent on driving back the vile Giants who dared to speak so casually of murdering and consuming their people. Oreius surged ahead and leapt up, his claymore flashing even as he collided with a large Ettin. The Giant bellowed as they both toppled. His flailing hand managed to land with bruising force against Oreius' left side but the General did not give him another chance to strike with intent. His claymore cut deep into the Giant's throat and Oreius scrambled to his hooves, leaping off the vanquished Ettin and once again rejoining the battle.

The familiar chaos of battle enveloped him. He confronted two more Giants and aided in slaying another before his searching eyes fell upon his golden colt. Peter still sat on Izar's back but now his concealing cloak had been cast aside and he sat a proud warrior encased in moon-wrought silver. The Unicorn's white coat fairly glowed in the moonlight but both his spiral blue horn and Peter's Rhindon were blackened with the blood of their enemies. Wolfsbane in all his fury fought against the Giants, driving the leader back as he and Izar worked in tandem to slash and pierce the one-eyed Ettin's legs and feet. The sight was magnificent to behold.

Oreius let out a wordless war cry as an Ettin broke free of the knot of Centaurs and Big Cats fighting with four other Giants and charged his golden colt. Galloping to cut him off, Oreius skidded into the Ettin's legs, slicing through tendons even as the Giant tripped over him. Peter and Izar still fought their opponent. The Ettin reached out, his thick, clumsy fingers grasping for the Unicorn's slender legs. Oreius roared his own challenge as he unsheathed one of his twin blades and drove it through the fleshy web between the Ettin's thumb and forefinger. The Ettin screamed but his cry was cut short as Oreius finished his attack. Freeing his claymore from between the Giant's ribs, he wheeled about when Izar let out a fierce whinny but neither the Unicorn nor the High King seemed to have taken hurt. Instead, they were chasing after the one-eyed Ettin as he and six others fled north.

Oreius shouted, "Wolfsbane!"

With the grace inherent to his kind, Izar wheeled around and galloped back to the center of the rocky plain. Peter shoved his faceplate up and offered a fierce grin. "We've routed them, Oreius."

"So it would seem, Your Majesty." He looked over the battleground as dawn pinked the sky above and the landscape was unveiled once more. Though they had slain eight of the Ettins and wounded the rest, he felt a vague unease regarding how favorably the battle had ended. If the Giants were so intent upon reaching Narnia and plundering her fair lands, why had they turned coward so easily?

"Oreius?"

His gaze and thoughts returned to the colt. "Majesty?"

Peter was watching him warily but his tone was one of command and strength as he spoke, "Have our wounded gathered and let us return to the camp."

Oreius inclined his head. "At once." As the High King began a slow circuit of the clearing, hunting no doubt for any of the injured he himself could aid, the General's gaze returned to the north where he could just make out two of the Gryphons following after the fleeing Ettins. Ettins tended to be weak-willed when not driven by a stronger and more determined personality. Perhaps it was simply their base cowardice when confronted by those who successfully fought back that had broken them. He prayed it was so. Yet . . . yet he could not fully escape the uneasiness that had settled over him at this victory.

After two months, any respite in the Giants' stubborn if plodding approach to the south should be welcome. He could not help wishing once more that he could invite Alambiel's counsel but she was not here and under no circumstance would he endanger his soldiers or his colt by seeking her counsel via letter. He would, however, discuss the matter thoroughly with Ardon. The other Centaur would offer what counsel he could and though neither of them looked at battles the way Alambiel did, there was enough of a difference in how Ardon saw things that he would, hopefully, see what Oreius was missing. And something was missing.

The march back to camp was uneventful and only two of the Big Cats had been seriously injured with all other injuries sustained being minor to various degrees. Oreius' own injury was more nuisance than wound. His left side ached and he was certain there would be a bruise beneath his armor yet he was equally certain that the Ettin's flailing had not resulted in any broken or cracked bones. He would not trouble the healers over the matter. Their attentions would be rightly focused elsewhere.

Dawn had given way to morning's full light when they entered the camp. Peter dismounted and quietly murmured his thanks to Izar who only gave a proud toss of his mane before cantering away. The Unicorn's pride in being the High King's war mount on this campaign was no secret and he seemed even less inclined to accept thanks for his service than the other two Unicorns who had carried the colt over the years. Oreius stood next to his colt as they watched the soldiers, wounded and whole, move toward the healers' tent or their appropriate quarters. Every time Peter shifted, he seemed in danger of toppling over from weariness and the Centaur stood ready to catch him if required, but still he stood, his head held high and his countenance unruffled and approving of the soldiers whenever they looked to him.

When the last soldier had been seen to, Oreius turned a stern look on his colt with every intention of ordering Wolfsbane to bed. There was enough of a distance between their camp and the Ettin camp to the north that losing a day to rest would not greatly harm their efforts. Indeed, not resting provided more risk.

"General. High King." Ardon's features were set in a carefully neutral expression and Oreius' own wariness grew even before the other Centaur stallion uttered his next words, "The Ettin camp has vanished."

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Morrigan smiled to herself as she listened to the scouts reporting that her ruse had been successful. Mog and his people were acceptable sacrifices to distract the Narnians in the night while the larger of the decoy camps retreated north again. Now those puny Narnians would fret and worry like dogs at bones over trying to determine where the Ettins had gone. She would let them worry. Worry made men easy to lead and the sole Narnian female the reports identified as being among the army leaders was not present. Morrigan would have had to use a different tactic if she had been but with men . . .

The Giantess' cruel smile grew. She knew how to manipulate men and she would guide them to their destruction, saving the wicked creature proclaimed as Narnia's general and the Son of Adam for last. For she intended to ensure that they both knew their deaths came in retaliation for the loss of her children. Although, perhaps, she would carry out her original plan and breed the Son of Adam to as many of the royal line as possible. Adam's blood would save them one way or another.

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"Any word?"

Oreius looked over his shoulder to meet his colt's anxious gaze and shook his head once. Returning his attention to removing his armor, he tugged the mail shirt over his head before he grunted, "They removed north most likely. Our scouts can find no trace of them in the southern ravines." He cast the armor over the stand and then pulled off his sweat-stained tunic. He continued as he poured tepid water into the basin before him, "I like the fact they disappeared so entirely as little as you, Wolfsbane, but it has happened in the past."

"Weren't we usually the ones who disappeared in the wee hours?"

His mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles as his colt circled him and came around to stand on the other side of the table. He dipped his head in the slightest of nods. "That is true."

"The entire matter seems too contrived," Ardon interjected as he too entered the tent. "I believe the venerable Dame Sepphora refers to such tactics as puppeteering."

"She would." Oreius cast him a slightly annoyed glance. "Have you anything new to add?"

The other Centaur tossed him a small jar. "I knew since she is not here to force you, you would not permit the healers to tend any wound you might achieve. Your side is already turning a lovely shade of purple, my friend." His eyes lit with amusement as he added, "Interesting addition to your attire, Oreius."

Oreius glared at him as he set the jar on the table next to the basin. Then his colt had the audacity to stifle what sounded very much like a laugh before he asked, "Isn't that Kat's?"

He raised a hand to touch the pendant that had hitherto been hidden from his fellow warriors by his tunic and armor then he cast a cloth into the basin. "You did not think yourselves the only ones to receive tokens from your wives, did you?"

His colt at least had the sense to look a touch abashed and looked away. Ardon, on the other hand, proved the miracle of their friendship's continued survival by chuckling and then commenting in a too careful tone, "It is only that I thought she only gave you weapons."

Oreius scowled and threw the wet cloth at him. "Away with you."

With one last laugh, the other Centaur tossed the cloth back into the basin, causing the water to splash everywhere, and then he left. His colt lingered a moment longer and then muttered, "I meant no offense, Oreius."

"Go, Wolfsbane, before I decide you will benefit from visiting the points of the compass." He watched as the colt scurried out of the tent and then shook his head. Ardon's insistence on teasing him whenever the other stallion caught him acting as a proper husband had yet to wane. Although, he claimed this was due to Oreius' occasional teasing of him when he was courting and newly married to Alithia. Oreius scrubbed himself clean and then lightly touched the pendant once more. Alambiel had insisted he take it . . .

 _He lay still, hoping that the shift in his breathing was not enough to awaken his wife even though he yet lingered with her instead of checking his pack one last time. If things had turned out differently . . ._

 _"_ _I wish I was going with you."_

 _So much for not waking her. Oreius glanced down at where she rested her head against his shoulder, her face tilted up and her gaze steady on him. He tightened his grip on her an infinitesimal amount. "I know."_

 _"_ _I really wish Corin and the twins had done this earlier." He raised an eyebrow and she smiled ruefully before clarifying, "I'd be healed by now if they had and I would be going with you."_

 _That was not what Tuulea had told him but he had no desire to quarrel in the last moments before he was required to leave. Nor did he have any desire to discuss the troublemaking colts responsible for her injury. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek and then gently cupped her chin, pushing up slightly as he dipped his head and captured her mouth in a kiss. "You've a different assignment now, sweet. Listen to the healers." He fell silent and studied her, trailing a single fingertip over her features from her brow down over her nose and lips to her chin as he memorized her in this unguarded moment, until he finally cleared his throat and added gruffly, "I must go. There is still time for an inspection of the troops before the High King wishes to leave."_

 _He started to pull away but she grabbed his hand. "Wait. I have something for you." He watched as she reached up and behind her neck then she pulled free the silver chain. She turned his hand over and placed the simple pendant in his hand. The disproportionate figure eight with the larger bottom loop transitioning to the trinity knot with a small upside down three-leaf crown on its bottom. Alambiel guarded this necklace more closely than any of her other jewelry save her betrothal and wedding rings. He shook his head but she covered his had with hers, her blue eyes beseeching as she stared up at him. "Take it."_

 _"_ _Alambiel, I cannot. This was your dam's-"_

 _"_ _That's exactly why you need to take it," she cut him off as she lifted the necklace from his hand and then brought the ends of the chain together behind his neck. "It's an heirloom and I do want to be able to pass it on to a future generation so you mustn't lose it or let it break. I expect you to bring this back to me yourself by which I mean that you are going to place it in my hand yourself when you return." She fastened the chain and then allowed the pendant, which was still warm from where it had lain against her skin, to fall against his chest. "The chain is long enough that no one will be likely to notice it beneath your tunic and you have to admit it's not too obvious in its function as a woman's jewelry."_

 _Oreius pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her hair. "I will bring it back to you, Alambiel. You have my word."_

 _Then he carefully extricated himself from her hold and got up. Alambiel surprised him again by struggling to her feet or, rather, her foot when he came back for his armor. She didn't say a word despite the pallor in her cheeks as she maintained her balance even as she silently insisted on helping him with his armor. He stepped back when she tightened the last strap and she handed him his helmet. Then, she had nearly collapsed from the strain of balancing on her good leg when she really should have remained abed. Oreius caught her and tucked her back beneath the covers with pillows elevating her wounded knee._

 _Alambiel caught his hand and he stopped still. "Be careful."_

 _He smiled ever so slightly. "I must if I am to obey your requirements for the return of your dam's necklace."_

 _"_ _The conditions are for your return, Kentauri."_

 _"_ _I know."_

 _"_ _Oreius?"_

 _"_ _Yes?"_

 _"_ _I love you."_

 _He permitted himself to give her one final kiss. "I love you too. I will return."_

Oreius dropped his hand from the pendant and took up the jar. He could not stop a wince from flickering across his features as he applied the cold ointment to the bruise. Alambiel expected him to return to her with her dam's necklace under very specific requirements. He had no desire to bring his wife's wrath down on his head should he fail to meet those requirements. Still, Aslan knew that he could only pray the Cair was still standing when he returned should Alambiel get the notion in her head that aiding and abetting those pesky colts would produce more entertainment than foiling them.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Hehehe, Oreius has a soft side. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	5. Chapter Five: Of Boxing

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Five: Of Boxing

9 Fairdawn 1014

"Come back here! I'll box you!"

Edmund closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Not again. He was almost tempted to turn Philip around and ride back into the woods until nightfall. However, the Horse stopped still and looked back at him, a knowing gleam in his large, dark eye. "The colt is nipping again."

He sighed again. "I hear it." He shifted in the saddle, scanning the nearby brush. "Remus! Romulus!"

A yip came from behind him and he twisted around to see Romulus come loping out of the bushes. The grey Wolf's pink tongue was lolling out the side of his mouth as he gave him a wide, doggy grin. "Alpha, Remus got his head stuck in the badger burrow again."

"I thought I told you two to leave the Badgers alone. Why were you- Never mind, I don't want to know. Do you smell Corin?"

"Yes, Alpha." Romulus tested the air then wagged his tail as he stated happily, "The puppy is with the Princess Royal. He smells like bacon. Can we have bacon?"

Corin wouldn't try to box Kat. Would he? Edmund grimaced then said ruefully, "Not right now, Romulus. Go help your brother and remember that the Queen Susan wants us all to be clean when we enter the palace. She's decorating for our sister's birthday ball. And I don't want to be lectured over you two tracking muddy paw prints everywhere."

"Yes, Alpha."

Romulus pelted off, leaving Edmund with no further excuse of delay. He still didn't get down yet. "Maybe I should go make sure he actually digs Remus out instead of biting his tail."

Corin's determined shout rang through the air, "I said come back here! I'm gonna box you until you take it back!"

Edmund swung himself out of the saddle with a groan. "He wouldn't try to box Kat."

"What do your ears tell you?"

He glared at Philip, knowing the Horse had just resisted laughing. "That my eyes don't want to see what's happening."

Then, knowing all too well that he had no choices left to him, he strode down the narrow side path toward his little highness' latest scrape. The next sound he heard was Kat's piqued words, "Oh do try it, Corin. Even with a bad knee, I could still beat you and I've half a mind to turn you over my knee here and now."

Edmund's feet moved faster and he burst into the clearing just in time to see Corin go sprawling in the grass. Kat was leaning on her cane as she limped around to face the blasted pest, a rather dangerous glint in her eyes that he recognized from all the times he had sparred with her. She must have moved out of Corin's way. Increasing his stride, Edmund reached the boy just as he scrambled to his feet and collared him before he could jump at Kat again. "Fie and shame upon thee, little prince! What mean you by such ungentlemanly and unprincely displays of temper? Attacking a lady? An injured lady and princess at that? What would thy father say to thee?"

The towheaded little boy just scowled and tried vainly to squirm free of his grip. "She insulted me! And challenged me! Lemme box her, King Edmund!"

He glanced at Kat who only rolled her eyes then she turned her back on them both. "I am returning to the Cair. Edmund, you might wish to explain to his little highness that a critique of his current fighting skill does _not_ constitute a challenge nor an insult."

Edmund tightened his grip on Corin's tunic and yanked him back to stand next to him. Then, he forced the boy to bow with him. "I assure you the matter shall be seen to, Princess Royal. Prince Corin offers his apologies."

"I do not! I wanna box her!"

Kat gave him a long look that she had to have learned from Oreius. But then, she limped off with Ptah and one of the Windwolf daughters following close behind. Edmund felt only the slightest bit of relief that he had gotten there before either the Leopard or the Wolf decided they should interfere. He waited until he was certain they had moved off before he let Corin go. "Well, young prince, what defense have you for this behavior?"

Corin tugged on his tunic, his fair cheeks flushed with temper and the light of battle in his eyes. He glared at him, forming the perfect picture of youthful defiance, and raised his fists. "I'll box you too!"

Edmund suppressed the urge to sigh or go bang his head against a nice heavy law book. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared down at the lad. "That is not a proper defense. And, no proper, Aslan-fearing gentleman, knight, and prince would attempt to attack the Princess Royal or any other lady for that matter."

"I could have boxed her."

Edmund arched an eyebrow. "Then you would not be a gentleman nor fit to be a knight of either Narnia or Archenland. A gentleman does not fight ladies. And a wise man certainly doesn't fight grownup ladies who can easily beat the tar out of him."

The mutinous pout didn't dissipate even though Corin finally lowered his fists. "I could box you both and win too."

"You might be permitted to spar with Dame Sepphora when her knee has sufficiently healed, sir, but that is not today and you must learn to accept correction when wiser heads than yours give it to you. It's most always well-earned." Edmund glanced up at the sun's position as his stomach rumbled. Blast it all if he hadn't forgotten the noon meal. Uncrossing his arms, he cleared his throat and gave Corin his best Judge's glare. "You're to escort Queen Lucy to tea, aren't you?"

"But I-"

Don't wanna, oh how well he knew that protest. Still, Edmund chose not to show any hint of mercy toward the miscreant. "A gentleman knight and prince always keeps his word to the ladies. You promised Queen Lucy that you would escort her to tea." He paused, observing the pout once more (really had the boy been learning from Lu?), and then added, "After tea, you may round up the younger Peridansons and go help Stonehoof set up the training dummies for practice tomorrow morn. Should your work meet with his approval, he might teach you three some new fighting tricks."

"Yippee!" Corin gave a shout of joy and then tore off toward the Cair as recklessly as ever. He really hoped the boy didn't run into or over any Calormenes today.

"Do you really think that foal has a diplomatic hoof?"

Edmund started slightly and then groaned as he walked over to Philip, leaning against the Horse's neck and combing his fingers through the chestnut mane. "Why did Peter do this to me?"

"He is your brother," came the gentle whicker of a reply.

He didn't miss Philip's snort of amusement, though he was currently more preoccupied with banging his forehead against his neck. "Don't. Remind. Me."

"Better?"

Edmund thumped his forehead against his neck once more and then mumbled into his mane, "I know they think I'm a great diplomat but Corin would try the patience of a Tortoise. You can't teach someone to be diplomatic who doesn't wish to be diplomatic. Look at Kat. She is perfectly capable of being diplomatic but she has to want to be diplomatic before she troubles herself to be so . . . or Oreius throws her into the sea."

"Then what are you going to do?" Philip nibbled his side, making him jerk away, and then added placidly, "You cannot throw Archenland's Crown Prince into the Eastern Sea. Your sisters wouldn't stand for it."

"I know." Susan and Lucy's wrath, but especially Susan's, was the main reason he even pretended that this entire exercise wasn't wholly futile and why he hadn't locked Corin in the dungeons or in one of the towers or taken away all his sweets privileges. Edmund sighed again, suddenly feeling much older than almost twenty-four. "It never ends."

"Alpha!" A long howl ripped through the relative silence of the afternoon as a positively filthy Remus raced out of the bushes and jumped straight at him, knocking Edmund to the ground. The Wolf yipped in excitement and licked his face. "I found you first! I told Romulus I'd find you first!"

Another grey blur emerged from the bushes and soon Edmund found himself being stood on by both Greyback brothers as Romulus countered, "No, I found him. You cheated by grabbing my tail!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!" Romulus jostled his brother.

Edmund laughed in spite of Philip's disdainful look for the two Wolves who simply couldn't grow up. "Tail grabbing? Cheating? I shall settle this!" Then with a playful growl, he grabbed Remus and wrestled him off. The Wolves yipped and howled in excitement, tails wagging, bodies wriggling, and paws pounding the grass. Edmund didn't care about tea or diplomacy or towheaded menaces (big and small). Instead, he just wrestled with the Wolves until all three of them were covered in dirt, grass, and tuffs of fur and all of them smelled decidedly doggy.

Philip looked at him in disgust. "You need a bath."

"Yes, Susan."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	6. Chapter Six: Letters from Home 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Six: Letters from Home 2

 _Oreius,_

 _In a completely theoretical situation, how much trouble would I be in if I were to lock the pompous one and the bratness in the deepest part of the dungeon and not tell anyone until after they'd both learned their lessons? (And before you ask, they both very much deserve it.)_

 _In other news, I am bored out of my skull except for the little diversions provided by his little highness. Tuulea has begun harassing me and I can't seem to accidentally lose my cane on purpose. I don't need it. It's taken to following me around. Also, can I send Brocken to Cauldron Pool for an indefinite amount of time?_

 _Better not have dented your helmet yet._

 _Alambiel_

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 _Alambiel,_

 _Theoretically, you would be in so much trouble that you would find yourself performing a search exercise within the Northern Marshes for a month if you do any such thing._

 _You would not be bored if you behaved. What is wrong with your skull? Have you suffered another injury? Why are you still in need of a cane? If Tuulea is 'harassing' you as you claim, then it is because you are not listening to the healers again. Listen to them, especially if you are still making use of your cane._

 _Do not reassign any of my soldiers, Sepphora._

 _My helmet is perfectly fine. I thank you for your concern._

 _Oreius_

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 _My Dearest Flower,_

 _I pray this letter finds you well. As you know, Ed is being stubborn and keeps scolding me anytime I make mention of the campaign. Therefore, I shall tell you I smashed Giants but not how many nor where I smashed them but there is progress. (Don't tell Edmund I said that, he'll probably scold.)_

 _I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you sort out that debacle with the weavers and dyers (at least the weavers didn't remember Kat helped to break their guild house) but from the way Lucy told it, you handled the entire matter beautifully. I knew you would! The days are growing colder already. One can hardly believe it's summer! Old Dreadoak is predicting storms and floods with morbid delight. I still don't know why the Marsh-wiggle thought it would behoove him to join our campaign as one of the healers. However, I suppose Aslan can use him despite his delightfully morbid outlook on all things in life._

 _Are you quite certain that Edmund's been behaving himself? I was wonder-_

 _Blast. Forgive me, Thalia, but I must cut this letter short. Duty calls and I must answer her summons (or else Oreius will find a way to assign me to the points of the compass)._

 _Take care of yourself and don't let my siblings run you ragged, especially the girls._

 _All my love,_

 _Peter_

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 _Dear Susan, Lucy, and Edmund,_

 _The answer to the question you didn't ask, dearest Lu, is the top left drawer in my desk. I must ask your pardon and offer my humblest apologies for missing your birthday, Lu. Have Edmund give you anything you want since I wasn't able to get the best present for you._

 _Now how are our guests behaving themselves? Not getting into too much trouble, I hope. And, I must confess to curiosity as to whether Susan is still entertaining the older of our guests or has he taken leave of your most gracious company? I sadly admit that my company is not very gracious since I'm not even there to play at being a good host._

 _Edmund, I certainly was not at fault for Corin's presence at the Cair. You're just too good at being falsely polite to people you dislike immensely for your own good. It impressed King Lune and now, I fear, he believes that you actually know what you're about with all the diplomatic stuff. With that in mind, brother mine, how are the lessons proceeding? And remember the girls have been more than willing to inform of your, ahem, almost successes._

 _I love you all, take care of Thalia, and look out for each other._

 _Your Magnificent brother,_

 _Peter_

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 _Oreius,_

 _A month in the Marshes? Do you really think that's at all reasonable? No, I don't want you to answer that, I know what you would say. "Yes, it is very reasonable if you cause a diplomatic rift between any of Narnia's allies or almost allies who might turn enemy at any moment. Go behave yourself before I throw you in the ocean, cheeky minx."_

 _Being bored out of one's skull is just an expression, Kentauri. Like eye candy. Why am I still using the cane? Because Tuulea won't let me get rid of it. All because I happened to trip over Remus and maybe I sort of fell into something that wasn't very . . . springy. I am behaving. Why does everyone assume Tuulea hovers because I'm not behaving?_

 _Please?_

 _Was that sarcasm? If it was, your helmet might not be dented but your head certainly suffered some damage._

 _I'm so glad you can only react from a distance right now._

 _Alambiel_

 _P.S._

 _I thought you might like to know that Corin and his enthusiastic cohorts have yet to knock down any of Cair Paravel's walls, despite your dire predictions. Should I direct them to a specific weak point in the wall (I'll even let you pick the area) so you will no longer be an unnecessarily paranoid, always jumps to the worst case scenario General?_

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 _Dear Peter,_

 _You needn't feel the least bit guilty about missing my birthday. While it is always true, brother, that having you and all of our family home for such celebrations is the best present of all, what you are doing is important. Edmund has given me your spare armor._

 _Our guests seem to be fairing quite well. Though, our southern guest has mentioned a desire to return home sooner than later. He has posed the question to Su and, well, she hasn't said no yet. He's so enamored with her that I don't think your absence has been much noted, brother dear._

 _Edmund is, of course, busy trying to keep Corin from boxing everyone from the elder guest to Kat herself! Oh, please don't tell Oreius that Corin tried to box Kat. I wasn't even supposed to tell you. Kat says it's been handled and that there's no reason for Oreius to get his tail in a knot because of it. And, Edmund says he's going to put Corin in the gibbet if he doesn't start behaving like a gentleman soon. I doubt Susan will let him, though. Corin is just so very enthusiastic and, well, slightly hard-headed. But, he will learn. Edmund's taken it as a personal challenge now (your teasing was quite naught, Peter). Oh but I can't say more because Ed's so determined about not oversharing in these letters._

 _Oh! I almost forgot. Thalia asked me to write you and say that she enjoyed reading your most recent letter. It's quite helped take her mind off things. Please don't worry if you don't receive a letter from her for a while. I'm afraid she's ill at the moment. But, don't worry._

 _Will write more as soon as we can._

 _Love,_

 _Lucy_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! In case the last two letters, or at least portions of them, seem slightly familiar, they are the ones referred to in my oneshot _Letters from Home_. Poor Peter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	7. Chapter Seven: Concerns

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seven: Concerns

23 Fairdawn 1014

There was nothing more frustrating that trying to figure out how to word his demand, err, request for information about what was going on back home without breaking all the silly rules Edmund insisted on for letters while on campaign. He didn't see how telling him what exactly was going on with Thalia would endanger Narnia's security. Peter chewed on his bottom lip as he weighed the options. However, if anyone read such a letter and knew that he was worried about Thalia, they could be inspired to go after his Flower. And, his sisters might get hurt too if that happened, especially Lucy because she'd most likely do her best to protect Thalia. He shuddered at the thought of any of his girls getting hurt because of something he did.

Pacing around the interior of his tent, he struggled to turn his thoughts to something else, anything else. The race to catch the group of Giants before they entered Narnia had been successful. Although, they had suffered a number of injuries, there had been no casualties this time. Still, he had seen that the soldiers were weary and, despite the fact that it meant they had lost considerable ground and were once again closer to the border than to the northern side of the canyons and gullies of Ettinsmoor, he and Oreius had agreed to make camp near the battlefield. They would press north again in the morn.

Peter yanked his sweat-stained undertunic off and forced himself to stop in front of the water basin so he could finish his ablutions. He splashed the water on his face, trying to clear away the sudden fear that maybe Thalia was fading or had been badly injured by some Calormene plot. He pressed his eyelids shut as he gasped as cold water slid down his skin. The terrifying image of his Flower lying cold with her eyes staring unseen flashed before him.

He uttered a soft cry, startling Bast and Babur into lunging to their paws, but he ignored the Tigers. He had to find out what was wrong back home. He had to know if he needed to go back home. If Thalia needed him to be there and not here in the wilderness chasing Giants every which way. And there was only one person he could think to ask for help. Shoving away from the washstand, Peter sprinted out of his tent and into the night.

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A smile twitched across Oreius' lips as he once again read his wife's cheeky letter. The pest was counting too much on his being away to prevent him from properly curbing her mischief. Pulling out a clean sheet of parchment, he'd only just dipped his quill into the inkpot when someone burst into his tent. He raised both eyebrows as he took in his golden colt's disheveled state. Peter hadn't even remembered his sword. Instead, his colt stood before him, looking wild-eyed and chest heaving, as he gasped, "Oreius, I need your help."

The Centaur's brow furrowed as concern rose. "What is wrong, Your Majesty?"

"I need to know." His colt immediately started pacing, running his hands through his damp hair and causing it stick up wildly, as he continued, "I can't not know. I have to know what's going on, you understand, don't you? I mean, it could be anything. And, if necessary, I will go back. I don't care if it seems impossible. I'm going. But, I can't go yet, first I have to know what's happening. Why can't anyone speak plainly anymore?"

"Your Majesty."

He was ignored as the colt kept pacing, not even noticing when one of his Tigers peeked in only to withdraw at Oreius' curt gesture, and rambling, "It's a bloody nightmare, I tell you. But, I would have been told if it were truly something of concern. Yes? I think. Maybe, I don't know. Maybe no one would tell me. But, not telling me is certainly worse than just telling me because if they did, then I'd know for certain whether I should go or not. It's only reasonable. Don't you think?"

"My King."

The colt spoke right over him, not even pausing for breath. "It doesn't make any sense. I don't know anything that will help me decide. Why wouldn't they tell me? Maybe I should go now and see for myself. It wouldn't take long. Three days there. I could probably make it back even faster if one of the Gryphons agrees. I mean, I know they'd tell me if it was truly bad. I think. Don't think so, but it's hard to tell if that's so. You know how they're being. I mean what if you-"

Oreius caught him by the shoulders and forced the colt to be still. "Peter." It seemed the sound of his name was the key to finally breaking through his worry and he looked up blankly at him, seeming half-surprised to find him standing there. He did not give the colt a chance to continue; instead, he said calmly, "I assume you are referring to the letter from the Queen Lucy, specifically the portion referring to the Princess Consort. You cannot leave the campaign, you know this."

Peter stiffened, his blue eyes gaining an icy quality as a defiant and hoarse whisper escaped, "If someone told you Kat was too ill to even write but not to worry, what would you do? Just go on as though there nothing amiss? As though you didn't care what was happening at home with your wife? As though you wouldn't be wondering every spare second if they were just trying to keep you from being distracted by the news that she's taken ill to the point that she's dying or already dead?" He stepped back, freeing himself from Oreius' hold, and continue stiffly, "Forgive me, General, but I am not capable of making myself act so cold as to pretend I don't care about my wife."

Oreius folded his arms over his chest, studying the colt's face closely. He flicked his tail then responded in carefully measured tones, "You mistake me, High King. I do not tell you to pretend you do not care for your wife, not one soldier here would blame you for being concerned over any potential ill news from home. However, you are the commander of this campaign. Should you leave for any reason, our troops will be demoralized and your ambition to splinter the Northern Giants' avarice for Narnia will fail here and now. You know this. If either of us were to leave, it would cripple our own efforts. Now, tell me, High King, why did you wish to see me?" He paused then added sternly, "I assume it was for a reason other than to accuse me of being cold-hearted toward my wife."

The colt ducked his head, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I- Oreius, I was- I came to ask for your help."

"I see."

Peter winced slightly. "Though, I doubt you will be very inclined to after my rash words. I did . . ." He trailed off and then shook his head. "I have to ask for your help, Oreius. If anyone would be particularly delighted to flout Edmund's rules for war missives, it's Kat. Would you write her? Find out what she knows about Thalia's illness? If she's recovered yet? Or, if there's something . . . something wrong?"

Oreius uncrossed his arms and turned back to the blank parchment, once more taking up his quill. He scratched out a brief note and then poured sand over the ink.

"Oreius?"

He didn't answer as he tapped the parchment clean and then folded it precisely and pressed his seal into the lump of wax. Crossing the tent, he pulled back the flap and called, "Tris."

The Merlin stirred from her roost among the branches of a nearby lightning-scorched oak tree and let out a soft cry as she soared down to land on his proffered wrist. She blinked up at him. "A new message, General?"

Oreius gave a curt nod. "This one is urgent. Make your way to Cair Paravel as swiftly as possible and be ready to leave as soon as the Princess Royal makes an answer. Remember, speed is of the essence."

Trish held out her leg for him to attach the carrier pouch. "Of course, General. I will tell the Princess Royal."

"Very good." He lifted the tent flap once more and Tris took off, swiftly vanishing into the darkness. Oreius turned back to where the High King stood, a rather dumfounded expression on his face, and offered a slight bow. "Tris is one of our swifter couriers and she will attract less attention than the Gryphons from both friendly and unfriendly eyes. I trust you will have an answer within the week, Your Majesty." He paused but his colt did not respond. "Is there anything else?"

"What? Oh, no. Thank you, Oreius." Peter shifted nervously, his hand reaching for Rhindon only to close on naught but air.

Oreius chose to offer the colt an escape. He nodded curtly. "Very good. If you will excuse me, Your Majesty, I have some other correspondence I need to attend before the night grows old."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Worried Peter is a diplomatic nightmare. Good thing, he's only fighting Giants. ;) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	8. Chapter Eight: A Reply

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eight: A Reply

26 Fairdawn 1014

"Are you sure about this, Kat?"

Alambiel rolled her eyes then shifted more of her weight to her other leg. "Lucy, you're out of practice. I'm out of practice. We need to practice." She raised her twin knives. "Ready."

She didn't wait for Lucy to respond. Instead, she went on the attack, leaping forward with knives flashing. Lucy's dagger met one but she forced the younger woman to twist and half-turn to avoid her second knife. A flash of resolve entered her blue eyes and her mouth took on a determined pout as she ducked away, briefly breaking free, before spinning back with her own attack. Her little dagger flicked toward Alambiel's arm only to be blocked.

For a while, there was only the sound of clashing steel. Then Lucy broke her silence. "Kat?"

Alambiel blocked another strike, catching Lucy's dagger between her blades and forcing them both to a standstill. She arched an eyebrow at the younger woman in mute query. Lucy puffed, moving the tendrils of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, and then asked in a slightly breathless voice, "What do you think of the invitation?"

"What invitation?" Alambiel disengage her knives and then stepped back, sheathing them. "Hand to hand now." She continued as she tossed the younger woman a pair of protective vambraces before tying her own, "Do you mean the invitation to go visit the Shuddering Woods? I'm not really in the mood. The invitation to visit Oreius' herd? I try to avoid family reunions when the Kentauri isn't around to help me keep his relatives' names straight. The invitation to-"

She cut herself off when Lucy struck at her waist, quickly slapping her hands away. "Not bad but not quite fast enough and I've told you no gut shots during training." They started sparring again, wrists and forearms taking the brunt of blocking each blow.

"Very funny," Lucy panted. "You know the invitation I mean. From Rabadash. Visiting Tashbaan."

Alambiel grabbed her wrists, not even bothering to hide her frown as she recalled Susan's news at breakfast. "I can't believe she's even considering it." She hooked her foot behind Lucy's ankle and yanked, tripping her over. "She shouldn't be."

"You don't think she loves him?" Lucy got up, wiping the dirt and grass from her split riding skirt.

"If she does, she's hiding it very well." Striding to a nearby log, Alambiel picked up a flask and poured clear, fresh water into a cup. She passed it to Lucy before pouring herself some. Tasting the refreshingly cool water did much to soothe her temper. She glanced at her companion out of the corner of her eye, noting Lucy's flushed cheeks and the sweat causing her hair to cling to her forehead, before she took one of her handkerchiefs, soaked it in water, and then passed it to the younger woman. "I do not trust our fair-speaking prince. He's not shown his temper, not even when Corin and the twins ended up knocking the punch bowl onto him and he was wearing more delicate silk than Susan."

"Maybe Rabadash isn't like his father or brothers. That could happen."

Alambiel glared at the grass beneath her boots. "Perhaps but I cannot escape the feeling that we should have done with this poppycock and bid him well on his journey home, end of story." She sighed then added, "Not to mention the nightmare of figuring out the security for such a visit and choosing who will go and who will stay. Although, I dare say such a visit shouldn't last more than a fortnight if it's undertaken. At least, two royals will have to go, including Susan." She stopped abruptly, noticing Lucy's amused grin and the laughter threatening to brim over judging by her shaking shoulders. "What?"

"You sound like Oreius."

"Oh." Her gaze drifted from her companion to the sparring meadow that was normally reserved for her and the Kentauri. "Well, one of the hazards of marriage, I suppose. You might find yourself sounding like your spouse when you least expect it."

"Your highness."

"What is it, Ptah?"

"It is nearly teatime." The Leopard further emerged from the bushes, his ochre eyes shining with the smirk he wasn't quite letting show, as he added, "You said you wished for a warning so that you might both clean up."

Alambiel nodded. She glanced at Lucy. "In the end, it is Susan's decision no matter what you and I might have to say about it. However, there's no harm in hoping she doesn't choose what I fear she will. Head back to the Cair. Ptah will escort you. I need to finish up here."

"Will we see you at tea?"

"Doubtful."

Lucy laughed. "I'll just have to invite Tarrin to take your place then."

"Please do." Alambiel smirked at the thought of how _that_ invitation would be greeted with absolute delight by the Cair's matchmakers with Susan in the lead. Ptah gave her a questioning look but thankfully he didn't argue before dutifully following Lucy from the glade once she mounted her horse.

Alambiel wet another handkerchief and leaned forward slightly as she draped the damp fabric against the back of her neck. She didn't like the Rabid Radish. She didn't trust him. And, she certainly didn't think any good would come of this invitation of his. Her knee throbbed as she stretched her leg out, reminding her that she wasn't quite back in top form. At least, Tuulea was away visiting some distant kin otherwise she never would have been able to accidentally lose her cane this afternoon. She held up the flask and gave some serious thought to just dumping the lot of it on herself to finish cooling down.

"Alambiel?"

She startled, thinking for one wild moment that it was Oreius, but then she met the laughing gaze of Stormwind and the equally amused eyes of his brother. Shaking her head with a laugh that was aimed more at her own foolishness, Alambiel got to her feet with just a touch of caution, calling out, "I see the perimeter guards aren't up to their normal stuff considering they let you two wander right in. What do you here?"

Stormwind chuckled, his tawny eyes sweeping over her first and then the sparring glade. "We've just returned from visiting the herd. And, obviously the perimeter guard knows that if anyone meant mischief, you are more than capable of defeating us with your grand and powerful wrath, O fairest of cousins."

She had to laugh as he finished with a very formal bow. "I've almost missed you, Stormwind. Firemoon?" She turned to the younger of her husband's cousins, grinning. "Can your greeting top your brother's?"

Firemoon snorted. "No, for if I tried, my lady might think I'm attempting to flirt."

She laughed even more when his brother retaliated by cuffing him on the back of the head. "And, how did the introductions go?"

It was always interesting to her how easy it was to make the two Centaurs uncomfortable by purposely bringing up their grandam and matriarch. Of course, they seemed to think that she shared Oreius' less-than-understanding attitude toward Despoina's attitude regarding her. "Well? How did Despoina greet Tanith?"

"She's very pleased." Firemoon grinned. "She said Tanith was an improvement over the last filly."

Alambiel raised both eyebrows. "You've brought fillies home before?"

"No. Just that she said-" He cut himself off abruptly, flushing with embarrassment.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that Despoina will like any filly who has four hooves and a tail better than the last filly one of her relatives introduced to her." Alambiel grinned. "So, tell me what else is going on with the herd. Actually, play escort for me and tell me why we go." She walked over to Pepin and let Stormwind help her into the saddle.

The Centaur gave her a curious look. "I thought Tuulea forbade you from sparring until your knee heals."

"It's mostly healed and Tuulea's not here. And, if she finds out from the two of you, I'll cut your tails." She enjoyed the wide-eyed looks and tail flicking that threat induced. Almost as much fun as yanking on Oreius' tail.

Finally parting ways with her husband's cousins outside her quarters after gaining their promises to have a family dinner with her next Seventhday, Alambiel walked into her study with an almost tangible sense of dread. Her thoughts swiftly returned to the topic Lucy had brought up during their sparring match. If Susan truly were planning to accept the peacock's invitation to visit Tashbaan, she might have to go. Ugh, she had absolutely no desire to waltz into the Tisroc's greedy hands.

Leeta met her at the door with a cold compress in hand. "For your knee, your highness."

"I don't-"

"I suggest you use it, my lady, or Tuulea will learn of your strenuous activity against orders as soon as she returns from her trip because you won't be able to hide your limp. Was tripping over Remus not enough aggravation for you, my lady?"

Alambiel pursed her lips as she snatched the cold compress and then stretched her leg out so her heel rested on the footstool that someone (probably Leeta) had placed in the room by her chair. Oreius still hadn't responded to her almost-confession of what had happened with Remus and she wouldn't put it past Tuulea (and maybe Leeta) to write the Kentauri with the healer's exaggerated report on how her knee was mending if they decided she wasn't cooperating enough. If she wanted the Kentauri to be provoked, she'd be the one to do it. "What's on the list today, Leeta? Tea with the Rabid Radish? A meeting with Stonebrook once again detailing why I'm not supposed to refer the Prince as the Rabid Radish? Confinement to my quarters until I learn to be diplomatic more often than once or twice a week?"

The Nymph shook her head, laughter sparkling in her black eyes. "I do believe that both Stonebrook and the Just have figured out how much you enjoy being confined to quarters when the Calormene prince is about and have removed that as an option because it is a reward and not a punishment."

"Too much smiling?"

Leeta tilted her head to the side. "Well, you were not very subtle, my lady."

"Hmm." She picked up the letter sitting on top of the pile on her desk. Not from Oreius. She tossed it back down as she murmured, "Next time I'll remember to practice being subtle."

A Bird's delighted shriek interrupted whatever Leeta might have said just before Tris darted in through the study's open window to land on Oreius' desk. Alambiel straightened in her chair, an unbidden smile blooming, as she reached to detach the courier pouch from the Merlin's leg. "Tris. I wasn't expecting you."

The Merlin flapped her wings once. "The General has sent an urgent message. He wishes you to make an answer posthaste then I shall fly again."

"First, take your rest or, at the very least, refresh yourself. Leeta? Would you see to her needs?"

Leeta stepped forward at once, holding out her arm for the Merlin to hop on, before she dipped her head. "At once, my lady."

Alambiel waited until Tris and Leeta had left before she finally permitted herself to slice through the Kentauri's wax seal with one of her knives. Unfolding the note, she frowned at its brevity.

 _Sepphora,_

 _The colt is concerned over home life. What does the Beech suffer from?_

She touched the short message with a single fingertip. "You didn't even bother to sign your name. And, you used my chivalric title for no reason. What did Peter say to get you in such a bad mood?"

Pity she had sent Tris away. Otherwise, she might be tempted to ask her what she'd heard between the two. Of course, such an action would be the equivalent of sanctioning eavesdropping on superiors, which was apparently frowned upon by the Kentauri. They probably didn't hash it out in front of Tris, anyway.

Pulling out quill, ink, and parchment, Alambiel considered what to say then she grinned. It was going to drive Oreius nuts.

 _Well, my love, I'm doing quite well. Thank you for asking. Cair Paravel is hopping and buzzing with all sorts of news and various announcements that I would repeat but I'll wait for a proper letter first._

 _As for the colt, you may tell him the following:_

 _Nothing permanent._

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	9. Chapter Nine: Reaction

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nine: Reaction

"Nothing permanent? What sort of answer is that supposed to be?" Peter shoved both hands through his hair and gave a little tug. Leave it to Kat to bring him perilously close to yanking his hair out. Lowering his hands, he turned back to where Oreius was still standing with Kat's extremely unhelpful letter in hand. The Centaur's attention was focused on the note. Peter scowled. "Why must she be so provokingly vague?"

Oreius was silent for several moments then he stated simply, "Alambiel has . . . moods."

"Moods?" Peter almost continued, almost pointed out that his wife didn't have these 'moods', but he bit his tongue before making such a foolish observation. He still needed Oreius to help him if he was going to get to the bottom of Thalia's illness. Nothing permanent, indeed! He groaned. "Would it be possible to send her another letter? One that will sway her to be in a more accommodating mood?"

The Centaur looked again at the note, making Peter wonder what else Kat had written. He shifted on his hooves and then shrugged. "We are yet waiting for the scouts to find the nearest group of Giants. I will write her again. Until then, My King, I believe you should take comfort in the knowledge that whatever ails your wife, it is not something life-threatening. Alambiel would not dare to tease if such was the case."

Peter personally had doubts about that given Kat's penchant for making jokes about and during various life-threatening situations. However, he wasn't going to contradict the General. Instead, he looked at him hopefully. "Using Tris?"

"Using Tris."

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Edmund raised an eyebrow as he watched Kat bypass the coffee in favor of tea. "Feeling queasy?"

She gave him a look that made him grateful Thalia and Susan were between them. Then, she added some sugar to her tea. "Shut up, Edmund. No one wants to talk about feeling queasy at breakfast."

"Yes, Kat." Edmund glanced at his sister-in-law's pale features. "Did you get a letter from Peter, Thalia?"

She shook her head then sipped some of her tea. "Not yet. I have been attempting to compose my own reply to his last one."

Lucy smiled. "I'm sure he'll be delighted with whatever you write, Thalia. Peter's always excited to hear from you." She looked at him. "Isn't that right, Ed?"

He smirked, remembering Peter's usual enthusiasm whenever he got a letter from his wife. "Oh yes. In fact, he'll probably trip over his own big feet in order to open your letter."

"Ed!" Susan scolded despite the smile lurking in her eyes. "You shouldn't make fun of Peter when he isn't even here to defend himself."

"So I can do it when he's here to _attempt_ to give a retort?"

"Edmund, be nice."

"He's not here, Su. And even if he was, the lummox would be concerned if I didn't say anything to keep his head only big enough to support his crown and not overwhelm it." Edmund slathered some jam on toast and then shoved the entire slice into his mouth. "An' I haf summfin doay."

"Swallow, Edmund. Honestly, you should at least pretend you have manners at your age." Susan shook her head and then took a far more measured and miniscule bite of her toast.

Edmund swallowed. "At my age, why should I pretend? Anyhow," he paused to pour syrup over the generous stack of pancakes, "we've seen Prince Rabadash off. Now, Sister, tell us what you've decided."

Susan licked her lips nervously, glancing from him to the others. "I informed Prince Rabadash that I would be pleased to visit Tashbaan for a time. I'm certain he and the Tisroc will be gracious hosts."

"Gracious hosts?" Kat repeated incredulously. She looked at him, already shaking her head. "I fear they may be a sight too gra-"

Cover for the platter of blood sausage still in hand, Edmund looked up as Kat abruptly cut herself off. She actually looked a little green as she stared at the links. "Kat?"

"I- I have to go." Clamping her hand over her mouth, Kat lurched out of her chair and promptly fled the balcony.

Not a moment later, Thalia gave a little squeak of distress as she covered her mouth with both hands and fled without uttering a single word. Edmund speared one of the links and deposited it on his plate soon followed by a fellow or two, which he drowned in gravy. He looked at the empty seats then turned to his sisters. Lucy was frowning in concern at the door. "What do you think that was about?"

Edmund shrugged. "Maybe they both haven't told us something newsworthy." He offered some of the blood sausage to Susan. "Black pudding?"

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	10. Chapter Ten: Possibilities

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Ten: Possibilities

30 Fairdawn 1014

"Push them back!" Peter raised Rhindon high in the air, hoping to catch the attention of as many soldiers as possible, and then pointed at the motley threesome before him. "Push them back!" Izar reared, his hooves pawing the air and his blue horn glinting in the light of the setting sun, and then leapt into a full gallop.

The Giants cringed and shouted in dismay until one of them, the largest of the lot, raised a wicked-looking spear with a curved head and bellowed a vulgar word. Peter raised his shield as Izar galloped closer. He wasn't going to permit any of this lot to defile Narnia and harm innocents whose only crime was to appeal to the Northern Giants' palates.

The Giant was bearing down on them. Peter tensed. "Now, Izar!"

The Unicorn squealed as he slid to a halt and then dashed to the right, ducking under the spear, the hook at the end snagging the back of Peter's jerkin and ripping through the leather and the tunic beneath. He shuddered as cool air kissed his back and wished he'd had time to put on his proper armor before the Ettins had blundered right into camp. Ignoring the slight discomfort, Peter swung Rhindon at the Giant's right leg while Izar targeted the left leg, tearing a gash with his horn. The Giant howled in pain and then stumbled to his knees as his legs gave out. Peter braced himself a second too late and the Ettin's flailing hand swiped him off Izar's back. Rocks dug into Peter's unprotected back as he tumbled to the ground, Rhindon flying from his grasp.

"Got you. Got you," the Ettin chanted as he grabbed Peter by the legs, pulling him toward his mouth.

"No." Peter squirmed to get his shield free and hissed in pain as his back was gouged by a particularly sharp rock and the rent in his clothing continued to grow. At this rate, he was liable to have the shirt ripped off his back. Sliding his arm free of the shield's straps, he caught it by the top and then shouted, "No!" Swinging the point of the shield with all his might, he silently cheered as the Giant yelped when the shield's sharp point cut a furrow across his hairy knuckles.

The Ettin's grip on his legs loosened but then it tightened again before Peter could ready his shield for another strike. The Ettin dragged him across the ground with a sharp yank. Peter's breathing was coming faster now. He could hear the taunting laughter of the Ettins as they enjoyed putting pressure on his injured leg, on his broken ribs, pressing down and laughing. Such horrible laughter. He tried to swing the shield but his arms refused to obey. The shield slipped from his numb fingers. The Ettin brought his other hand up, caught hold of his jerkin and tunic, and yanked.

The sound of ripping fabric filled his ears and then jerkin and tunic alike gave way and he was left exposed. Panic began clawing at his insides. Peter grasped for Rhindon but it wasn't there. His gaze found the sword, partially obscured by a rock, some ten feet away. It might as well have been a league. The Ettin's horrid laughter and fetid breath washed over him. Peter groped at his belt, feeling frantically for the hilt of his dagger. His trembling fingers closed around leather-wrapped wood and he jerked the dagger free. The Ettin laughed again as Peter slashed at his thick fingers.

Peter swallowed hard. Terror pressing in, urging him to end it before the Giants could abuse him further. But . . . Thalia. He didn't know what was going with his Flower but he knew she would be devastated if he didn't come back to her. Flipping the dagger around, Peter threw it with all his strength.

The Ettin howled and abruptly turned Peter loose as he reached up, still howling, to paw at his wounded eye. Peter heard the pounding of hooves and rolled to the side. The Ettin's cries were cut off mid-howl and then Peter saw hooves enter his field of vision again just before a large hand was thrust into view. Grasping it, he allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Oreius gave him a look and then handed him the dagger. "I believe you misplaced this, Wolfsbane."

Peter accepted the dagger and quickly cleaned it with a torn section of tunic. Slipping it back into his sheath, he glanced up at Oreius. "Is the camp secured, General?"

"Aye." The Centaur looked him over critically. "Allow the healers to see to those scratches, Wolfsbane. The ground here is not clean."

"Yes, General."

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Oreius had barely returned to his tent after making sure that his golden colt was being seen to by a healer when a sharp cry filled the air and then Tris darted into his tent. He frowned when he saw her courier pouch was empty but said nothing as the Merlin landed on his wrist. She bowed her head once. "General Oreius, I've news."

"Tris?" His golden colt dashed into the tent, eyes eager, as he looked from the Merlin to Oreius himself. "What news? What did Kat write?"

"Nothing it would seem, My King."

"What?" Eagerness turned to confusion and even a bit of fear as he turned to the Merlin. "Why did you return without the Princess Royal's message?"

The Merlin ruffled her feathers. "I did not, High King. But she did not write a message this time." Tris ducked her head slightly, combing through her feathers with her beak. Oreius cleared his throat and gave her pointed look. She nodded, though she shifted about on his wrist with nervousness or perhaps embarrassment as she continued, "The Princess Royal bade me give you this message, High King, and to say it exactly as she said it to me."

She stopped again, more than confirming Oreius' suspicions that Alambiel had not been very civil, but Peter gestured impatiently. "Don't worry, Tris. I won't hold Kat's words against you. Just please give me the message."

Tris flapped her wings. "Peter, if you ask me one more time about Thalia, I will personally come up north and beat you up and down a wall until you learn to be patient and deal with having limited information. I don't care if that means I end up crawling all the way. No one is dying or in mortal peril. But you will be if you don't stop bothering me or making Oreius bother me. Next time you want information because of what Lucy wrote, you may bother her and not me. Thalia will write when she can. I will write when I can. Aslan, preserve me. Tris, don't tell them that part."

The colt's jaw had dropped in a manner that would have been amusing if Oreius weren't concerned about Alambiel's biting reply. The last time she had been so short, she had been seriously ill. Peter broke the silence. "Come up north and beat me?"

Tris ducked her head. "Yes, High King, that is what she said."

Oreius hid a frown as he turned his attention to the colt. "I think, Your Majesty, that it would be best to leave off this line of questioning until either your sister or your wife can provide the answers."

"Do you think Kat would really come north for the sole purpose of beating me?"

Oreius hesitated. "I think she is experiencing one of her moods. Very dangerous. Best not to antagonize her further." He eyed the Merlin. "Did the Princess Royal have a message for me?"

"The Princess Royal said her message wasn't polite enough for me to carry it, General."

"Ah." He looked at the High King. "I think, Sir Wolfsbane, it would be in your best interest to return to your tent and get some rest. Try not to worry. I do not believe Alambiel will truly come north as long as we do not provoke her."

His colt hesitated and then nodded. "Thank you, Oreius."

He waited until the colt had gone before he questioned Tris further. "How did the Princess Royal fare?"

The Merlin fluttered her wings and shifted about on his wrist as Ardon ducked inside but Oreius ignored his friend for the moment. He fixed the Bird with an unyielding stare. She turned her head slightly to look him in the eye. "The Princess Royal gave her message between regurgitation. I do not believe it was purposeful."

"Is the Princess Consort suffering the same fate?"

"That is what I heard, General."

Oreius pursed his lips then dismissed the Merlin, allowing her to fly off. He looked around his tent, wishing he could be in Cair Paravel and investigate the matter himself. To distract himself from such impossible thoughts, he spoke without turning, "What news do you have, Ardon?"

The other Centaur's voice was brimming with pride as he answered, "Alithia is carrying a foal. I received her letter just before the Ettins attacked."

Oreius turned around and clasped forearms with his friend. "You have my congratulations. Now we must fight all the harder to return home. I'm sure Alithia will appreciate your company sooner rather than later."

The other Centaur chuckled. "Based on Tris' report, you and perhaps even the High King shall have the same motivation."

He froze. "Is that what you think?"

Ardon didn't answer right away, his smile fading slightly, as he replied, "Alambiel was ill the last time she carried a foal, was she not?"

He remembered. "Very." He crossed to the table holding his correspondence, charts, maps, and fresh parchment and ink. He had already written Alambiel's name when he paused and looked up at his grinning friend. "Don't tell anyone, Ardon, not even the High King. I will ask Alambiel and if she confirms it, then I will inform the High King in private. We don't want the Giants to learn anything they might use against us, especially with their determination to breach Narnia's defenses." He added as an afterthought, "And, we don't need any distracting rumors."

"Of course, Oreius." Ardon crossed to him and squeezed his shoulder. "She will be all right."

Oreius didn't respond. He only stared at the blank sheet of parchment, attempting to choose the words that would ask his question without either opening old wounds or provoking Alambiel to the point that she dragged herself north for the sole purpose of beating _him_ or simply destroying his armory. He had not even considered the possibility before Ardon mentioned it. Not even for the Princess Consort, although that too was possible. He prayed to Aslan that their loved ones in Cair Paravel were recovering if it was not as Ardon suggested. And if it was . . . He prayed the campaign would come to a swift end.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Hey, look, someone is definitely having a baby! Ardon and Alithia! I know you're all ecstatic for their new addition. :) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Letters from Home 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eleven: Letters from Home 3

 _My Dearest Flower,_

 _I pray this letter finds you well. Are you well? You would tell me if aught were wrong, wouldn't you? Next time you let one of my sisters send me a message on your behalf, I ask that you give her something a bit more specific. I fear I've made quite the pest of myself to appealing to Oreius and Kat (to the point that Kat's quite lost her goodwill toward me . . . I hope that doesn't last). I know I've been away for almost three months now but you're constantly on my mind, Thalia, to the point that Oreius is threatening to make me visit the points of the compass after camp is set up for the evening if I don't find something more constructive to do. Makes me think that Ed sent him a message suggesting I have too much time on my hands and you know how our good general reacts to such suggestions. The same way he reacts to the suggestion that my brother and I had too much energy after training. More training, especially the particularly exhaustive training exercises. Perhaps it would be best if he did run me down for I fear my thoughts have a tendency to keep me awake at night now more than ever. I miss you, Flower. Truly I do. I wish I could be with you right now. It would certainly set my mind at ease. And, I wouldn't run as much of a risk of irritating Oreius as I am currently. I love you, Thalia. You know that, right? And, I'm praying Aslan keeps you safe between His paws while I'm gone. I wish . . ._

 _Sweet Lion, I am rambling on like a regular nanny goat, aren't I? Forgive me, Thalia. It seems every time I touch the quill to parchment all my jumbled thoughts flow out of the tip. You should see the mess I've made of my other attempts. Ed would laugh to see it or at least smirk and then tease the devil out of me because of it. The brat._

 _I must close now, there's someone in the camp I hope carries good news._

 _I love you, Thalia, take care of yourself._

 _All my love,_

 _Peter_

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 _Dear Edmund, Susan, and Lucy,_

 _I would be greatly relieved if you lot wrote better (and more informative) letters. Whatever is going on at home? If Thalia is ill or hurt, you are to tell me. Yes, that is a command. It seems to be necessary because no one is telling me what's going on._

 _Edmund, how are you handling young Corin? I can only hope that he's giving you half as much trouble as you've given everyone else, especially at that age. Has he broken anything important yet? Whatever shall you tell Susan if he has? Good luck, brother mine, you're going to need it._

 _Dear Su, don't worry about me. I promise I change my socks when they get wet. Don't let anyone from anywhere bully you into anything. You deserve only the very best, sister. Are you still entertaining our guest? Is he behaving himself? If not, don't be surprised if I show up to help Ed knock some manners into the bloke._

 _Lucy, when I said for Edmund to give you anything you wanted for your birthday, I didn't think you'd want my spare armor. If I recall correctly, you haven't grown up to the point that it would fit you. Try not to terrorize any suitors of Su's too badly (we're to leave such entertainment to Kat, remember). Are you sure you don't want something else for your birthday? Like a new ship? That's it. Tell Edmund I said you're to have a new ship. Really, we should have replaced the Morning Dove by now. Forgive me for forgetting, Lu? Although, I suppose if you've resorted to borrowing my spare armor, you might need some new armor of your own. Have Edmund commission some as well. But, remember the rules! You stay off the front line unless the battle's over and you're helping the healers. And don't take your cordial into battle!_

 _Edmund, try to keep the girls out of trouble. Best of luck!_

 _Your Magnificent brother,_

 _Peter_

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 _Dear Lummox,_

 _My understanding is that you have been pestering people about sensitive information. Again. Honestly, brother mine, even the High King has to adhere to the rules for wartime correspondence. Look if anything really bad happened to anyone at home, we would make sure you were told. You haven't been told anything, right? So, logically, nothing terrible has happened to anyone. Maybe Thalia's just busy._

 _I'm writing on behalf of the girls this time. Susan is preparing her wardrobe for a trip. You may guess where (but not in a letter!) but I won't confirm it. I'm about to tether Corin to my belt to see if that will help keep the brat out of trouble. Ho ho hee hee, it is to laugh. His presence here, much like my Wolves', is entirely your fault. I've not forgotten._

 _Of course, Lucy didn't get your armor. I gave her a new bow and quiver. Almost as pretty as Su's. Another ship? And, new armor? Peter!_

 _Thanks a lot. You cause most of the difficulties I have, you know._

 _Edmund_

 _P.S._

 _The girls are insisting I tell you they love you (so does Ed!). And if Lucy is quite done stealing my quill (almost!)_

 _Try not to get stepped on, Peter._

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 _Oreius,_

 _First, what were you thinking? I don't feel particularly fond of you right now partly because of all the messages from Tris and partly because of your latest letter! You're lucky I still consider my message for you from the last interruption to be too impolite to send in a message. You're also lucky I've been too miserable to even plot the fiery and very impressive demise of your armory._

 _Second, did we or did we not agree that you were not ever going to ask me or assume that I was in fact expecting? You are to wait until I tell you, not healer's speculations, not hallucinations, not even Ardon's speculation (I know he's the one who planted the idea in your head), me._

 _Third, the reason that Thalia, Susan, Lucy, and I were violently ill when Tris came to visit was due to the fact that there was a bout of food poisoning. Other than that we're perfectly healthy. Did Tris not mention the Queens? She must have missed it when Leeta mentioned them then. Do not tell Peter. We're all on our way to recovery or have already recovered (I'm writing you, aren't I?)._

 _Fourth, why in all the worlds did you tell Peter that I have 'moods'? And, just what do you mean by saying I have 'moods,' Oreius? Moods. See now I'm really irritated. Very dangerous mood, not to be provoked. (Tris talks to me too, you know.) Me and my mood are definitely going to do something to your armory now._

 _Fifth, you should expect a lot of distraction among your soldiers after this next parcel of mail is delivered. It seems just about all of Cair Paravel outside of the royal house is blossoming._

 _Sixth, please try to keep Peter from bothering me again._

 _Seventh, don't let the Giants use you for target practice._

 _Alambiel_

 _P.S._

 _You realize your armory is doomed, yes?_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, this hasn't gone quite the way Oreius had hoped. I know I'm horrible. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**

 **A/N2: The mention of the Morning Dove is by WillowDryad's permission who let me borrow it from her awesome and nail-biting story _Counted Among the Traitors_ to give to Lucy until it was summarily scuttled. If you want to know more about Willow's version, do check out her marvelous story. You won't want to miss out. **


	12. Chapter Twelve: Her Way, His Way

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twelve: Her Way, His Way

"You enjoy tossing Ettins before the Narnians, Morrigan?"

She looked up as the two-headed Ettin, Culhwch, approached her. His black brows were lowered into identical glares and his fingers flexed around the haft of his spear. Had he not been such a gnat, she would have been tempted to permit him to get her with child. He was almost smart enough to guarantee smart children. However, at the moment she did not care for his smarts. She was smart enough for all the Giants in the North and yet still they resisted her leadership. Fools. Weaklings. No wonder the puny human and Narnia's beasts were able to defeat them so easily.

She turned back to the haunch of boar, speaking around a mouthful of bloody meat, "You've no call to complain, Culhwch. Your men have yet to fight. We must wear the Narnians down."

"No. We must break them. Kill their yellow-haired king and the horseman who leads them."

Such small-minded arrogance. She deigned to cast him a disparaging glance as her lips curled into a sneer. "Fool. The Narnians are yet strong. However, the longer we let them fight against the ones we can spare, the more of them are injured and the more their defeats shall weigh upon their hearts. They-"

"Defeats!" Culhwch's heads tilted back in unison as harsh, grating laughter emerged from his twin throats. "Defeats! When the Ettins fall before them or are driven back so wounded that we must put the pitiful curs out of their miserable existence because they are not worth saving? When it has already taken most of summer to push them back to the border to the lush land you promised would be ours? When shall we have this land, Morrigan? Or, is your plan to use the Ettins to wear down the Narnians until you may stride past them all and take part in Narnia's bounty without need to share with those you claim are allies"

The other Ettin chieftains and even the so-called king were muttering. Finally, their supposed king stirred himself enough to pause in his drinking to belch and then ask in a bleary voice, "Why yous an' not Borak?"

Morrigan rose, the decorations and trophies she'd sewn onto her dress clinking together as she did so, and stared down her nose at the pitiful excuse for a Giant. This was what the Ettins let be their king? They needed her leadership more desperately than even their tiny wits could comprehend. "Borak will come. He sends me because I am smart. I know how to defeat the Narnians. I know how to capture them for food and play. Would you not like to make the goatmen and horsemen dance for you all the way to the cooking pot?"

Culhwch interrupted the cheer that went up, glaring all the more now. One of his heads spat on Grog's sandal and hairy toes. The other watched Morrigan. She smiled at him. He bared his teeth. "Fool, you call me. I say you are the fool, Morrigan. You want us to prolong the fight until winter and let winter's bite weaken the Narnians. Then you say we must send more Ettins to fight the Narnians because that will weaken the Narnians. The Narnians still stand. They do not shiver and yelp like whipped dogs. They do not even cower before us. What will weaken the Narnians next?" He sneered at her. "All I see is Morrigan's plot to weaken the Ettins."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You think you are smarter? You think you can fight better than Morrigan? You are truly a fool, Culhwch. My plan is to continue luring the Narnians north. We must break them away from the sustenance and comfort of their own land. This will be best achieved by attacking by daylight and then leaving them time to give chase."

"Daylight? Give chase? Far better to attack them at night while they are weak and dumb with sleep."

Morrigan immediately turned to the fat fool of a king. "Grog!" He snorted and looked around wildly at her. She did not give him time to annoy her with his stupidity. "Grog, you are king of the Ettins. What say you? Do we follow my plan or Culhwch's?"

He stared at her dumbly and she pulled one of the pins from her dress free, allowing a shoulder to be bared. Grog's beady eyes lit and he swiped the drool and beer from his mouth with his sleeve before he unleashed a massive belch. "We follow Morrigan's plan. It's smart."

Morrigan watched Culhwch storm off, spewing curses, before she went to Grog and allowed him to pull her into a rough kiss. The old fool would drink himself into a stupor before she was even entertained by him. What mattered most was that most of the Ettins would follow their king and their king was in her hands.

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"Are you sure 'bout this?"

Culhwch glared at the smaller Ettin. "Yes. Take your men and move to the west. We must surprise them now. They sleep."

The other Ettin's mouth gaped in a hideous grimace as scar tissue prevented his mouth from forming a true smile. "Fresh meat."

"Fresh meat. Fresh meat. Fresh meat."

Culhwch quickly held up his hand for silence and then punched one Giant who didn't cease his chanting fast enough for his liking. He would not let Morrigan win. He was going to kill the Narnians, feast on their flesh, and use their bones for cleaning his teeth. He jerked his hand down and pointed at the dark camp. Most of the fires had burned out but it did not bother him. He could smell them.

His men crept closer. Then four began to run. The pounding of their footsteps alerted the Narnians but too late. Culhwch watched with glee as one of his men swung his club into a group of horsemen. The large bronze one who had been giving orders during the last attack was among them, crushed in the middle. Culhwch laughed as the Narnians' horns sounded the alarm.

He picked up his own pace, having traded spear for cudgel this time, and hunted for the dark horseman, the one they called general, and the yellow-haired Son of Adam. He wanted to crush them personally. Culhwch roared as he swept a large bear out of the way with his cudgel. Bear meat was always a pleasant change from pork or horse. He scanned the Narnians at his feet, kicking whenever some goatmen got too close with their pikes. The horseman and the Son of Adam were not there.

One of his men yelled out, "You'se on my side!"

An equally loud retort filled the air, "Not I! I'm on Aslan's side! And the High King's! For Narnia!"

Culhwch turned around to see some of the weakling Giants, who were so soft they didn't even hunt the beasts and Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve for sport, had joined the battle. They bore shields, swords, and spiked cudgels. He had seen they wore spiked boots but he did not think they wore them now. Probably too afraid to crush their puny allies.

"Archers at the ready!"

Cudgel in hand, Culhwch swatted toward the voice but it was too late. One of his heads howled as an arrow bit deep into his cheek but the other only shouted, "Ettins! Catch your meat! Drink your blood! The feast is ours!"

The ground shook as a Giant ran through the camp. Culhwch hesitated but then he noticed the Narnians were cheering and the other Giant bellowed, "Way! Way!" He leapt over a large tent and Culhwch saw eyes despicably kind that were now hard with determination just before the other Giant reached him. He held both arms out, catching his opponent but still the soft Giant was able to drive him back, his feet digging long furrows in Ettinsmoor's rocky soil. The Narnian stared at him. "Shameful cousin you are. Run away now and I'll let you go."

Culhwch turned his left head and bit the Giant's ear. His shout was deafening but his grip didn't falter. Culhwch scrambled to push his opponent back but they were at a standstill, straining against each other. His knife was useless because he dared not slacken his hold at all.

"Bramblebuffin! Clear the way!"

The soft Giant grunted, "You should have run while you had the chance." Then he shoved at the same time he hooked his foot behind Culhwch's ankle and yanked. Culhwch floundered, grasping at the other's sleeves, but it was too late. He landed heavily on the ground. He heard the hiss of arrows in flight and threw both arms over his faces even as he labored to get back to his feet. Buffin. He would remember. He would not forget and he would make sure Bramblebuffin died with his name on his lips.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Desperation

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirteen: Desperation

Oreius galloped through the remains of the west side of camp, passing the injured and dead, but he dared not stop. Instead, he raised a sword in the air. "Archers! Loose!"

The hiss of over fifty arrows and the twang of over fifty bowstrings filled the air. It was answered by a chorus of Giant voices shouting and oaths blistering the air. He was viciously glad for it. Wheeling about, Oreius signaled the herald who sounded the charge. Centaur lancers and their own good Giants joined him as he led the charge against the nearest group of Ettins. The Buffin family leapt over tents and avoided the groups knotted around the injured for visibility until they could each slam into an Ettin, forcibly driving the attackers away from the vulnerable camp.

Oreius praised Aslan that the Buffins had agreed to send seven of their own to fight their corrupt northern cousins. Without them, the night attack would have been even more disastrous. He swiftly reminded himself that it was not yet done. Barreling into an Ettin, he narrowly avoided a spear aimed at his torso, batting it aside and allowing it to slice a narrow furrow along his lower ribs, as he plunged both swords into the Ettin's wide mouth. The Ettin's eyes bulged for the briefest of moments before death's film spread its veil over them, putting out their cruelty forever, and then he went still.

One of the Buffins fell into his path, a hand around his bleeding thigh, and the offending Ettin raising his cudgel for another blow. Oreius leapt over the Buffin and ducked beneath the blood-spattered spikes of the cudgel. Raising both swords, he galloped between the Ettin's legs and sliced through both hamstrings. The Ettin cried out then his cries abruptly faded into a frantic gurgle before all sound ceased. Oreius trotted around the body to see the Ettin had impaled himself on his own weapon.

The Buffin raised a hand and gave a very small wave as he nodded. "My thanks. My thanks."

Oreius offered a curt nod in response. Then he returned his attention to the positions of his soldiers. "Reform! Reform the line!" Rearing, he raised his sword high. "For Aslan and for Narnia!"

The war cry echoed through the darkness and it cheered Oreius' heart almost as much as seeing the Fell Giants quail and begin to turn and run. With a battle cry, he led another charge, sometimes finishing a Giant and other times only crippling him and leaving him for another soldier to finish. As the sky slowly began to turn pink in the east, the Centaur had already begun to set up a new perimeter. The attack had been a surprise and he knew there had been casualties but still the injured had been spared. Nor did he believe any of their own had been carried off by the Giants.

The first warning was a large log landing in the center of the path along the eastern side of the camp. Its broken branches dug into the hard ground just before him and splinters flew through the air. Oreius reared as he raised an arm to shield his face against the flying debris. He barely registered the sting of shards of wood biting into his skin when the harsh blast of Giantish horns filled the air. Oreius could hardly believe his eyes as the silhouettes of half a dozen new Giants filled the pale ribbon of dawn peaking over the ridge, obscuring it almost entirely.

Turning to the weary soldiers, Oreius shouted, "East! Look to the east! Defend the camp! Arms! Take up your arms!"

The Giantish horns blared again, their sound grating against his ears, but he did not flinch away. Instead, he turned back to them with a determined gleam in his eyes as he unsheathed his claymore. Soldiers were running to join him but he did not wait. It was suicide but there was no other way to keep the Giants at bay long enough for the camp defenses to move to the eastern end. _Alambiel, forgive me, but I will try._ Rearing, he bellowed a war cry and then galloped forward. Logs and rocks were thrown at him but, by the grace of Aslan, he avoided all but the most glancing of blows. Then, the largest of the Giants gave a gleeful shout and ran down the embankment, a cudgel in one hand. Oreius did not slow. He could not. _Aslan, be with us._

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Peter bit back a cry of dismay as he watched Oreius' larger than life shadow crash into that of the Giant's. Both tumbled to the ground. He tried to see if the Centaur got back up but his attention was immediately yanked away by necessity as the whistling sound of a thrown boulder filled the air. Throwing himself to the right, Peter felt the ground shudder beneath the stone's impact and looked over his shoulder to see the boulder had torn through the very patch of grass he had been standing on not a moment before. The Giants' aim was beginning to improve. Blast.

Scrambling to his feet, Peter snatched Rhindon off the ground and shouted, "To me! Narnia to me! To me!"

Those soldiers who were not forming the perimeter around the camp or protecting the wounded who had not yet been moved toward the center of the camp rushed to where he stood. Two of the Northern Giants came lumbering down the hillside, still clutching boulders in their massive hands, their wide mouths split into ugly grins. Peter looked around, meeting the weary but determined gazes of his fellow Narnians, and raised Rhindon. "For Aslan!"

"For Aslan!" the cry echoed through the faint light of dawn and the menacing shadows of the Giants faltered. One of the Buffins was fighting his way up the hill where Oreius had been but his brethren guarded the injured and the healers with the archers' aid.

Peter barely processed the fight as he whirled, cut, danced away, stomped on the Giants' insteps with the heel of his boot, and ducked beneath whistling clubs and slapping hands. Only distantly did he register his own voice shouting encouragement. Only distantly did he register the sound of fighting beginning to fade around him as he pursued one of the vile Giants back to the ridge. All his thoughts, his very being was focused on the Giant before him. This monster morphed into the ones from the past. Morfran's cruel taunting, his threats against Edmund, against Narnia, all of it. The Giant suddenly turned and sneered. "Little king! Little king! I breaks your tree-wife's tree to kindling and use it to kindle me cooking fire!"

Thalia. Oh Aslan, he was threatening Thalia. The horrifying vision of Thalia screaming and shuddering then falling to the ground as some Fell Giant ripped her Tree up by the roots filled his mind. Peter screamed. "Nooooo! I'll stop you!"

The Giant started to laugh. Peter rushed him, dodging beneath the swinging club. He sliced at the Giant's wrist, ignoring the howls and the thick drops of blood that were nearly black in color as they plummeted to the ground. He darted in and carved deep into the Giant's calf muscle then he stomped on his instep. The Giant howled again and bent down, reaching blindly through his tears to grab his injured foot. Peter thrust Rhindon up to the hilt into the Giant's unprotected flabby neck. He stared into his eyes as they clouded over. "I won't let any of you hurt them. Not any of you."

The Giant's eyes lifted beyond him and suddenly a macabre grin appeared for a brief moment before death slackened his lips once more. Peter turned. A log was bearing down on him. He ran but he wasn't fast enough. He felt the solid hit of unyielding wood against his shoulder and the ground rushing up to meet him and then he knew no more.

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"General! General Oreius!"

Oreius hid a grimace as his left foreleg protested the movement when he turned and walked toward the shouting. He did not need any of the healers to become distracted over his minor injuries. He scanned the crowd of soldiers hurrying to and fro on their tasks, assisting the wounded, and salvaging supplies the Northern Giants hadn't trampled underhoof. Still, he was not prepared to see Bast.

He wondered if the last glancing blow from a cudgel had caused more than ringing in his right ear since the Tigress' voice had not sounded at all familiar. "What is it?"

Bast looked up at him, her fur standing on end and her tail puffed out and twitching while her green eyes were flat. She snarled, "He is not with you?"

The question sounded more like a statement. Oreius could not pretend that he didn't feel a shaft of fear penetrating his heart as he realized the significance of her words. His golden colt was missing. He lowered his voice as he hissed, "Did you check the healers'?"

"Babur is looking now." The Tigress bounded away as quickly as she could while favoring one of her back paws.

Unwilling to declare the subject closed, Oreius followed her for a short distance until he spied a new wave of injured soldiers being carried toward the healers' tents. The checking of the injured would go faster if more than one was looking. Turning to follow them, Oreius searched for a familiar face among the wounded. He saw too many. He ducked into the second tent with those who had been injured during the night and froze. Ardon. His friend's features were pale and slack from unconsciousness but there were two gashes tearing their way across his barrel, exposing the white of ribs amidst the blood. Oreius grabbed one of the healers by the arm and nodded to the other Centaur. "Will he live?"

The weary-looking Nymph sighed. "I do not know, General. Captain Ardon has a concussion that is complicating matters. It will take time to see if he will be able to recover here."

Ardon had a family. Alithia, little Solon, their coming foal, he had all of that to live for. Oreius swallowed hard and crossed to Ardon's bed, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Remember who you fight for, Ardon. Alithia, Solon, the new foal who must come to know its sire. Remember them, my friend, and fight."

"General."

He looked around and spotted Babur standing near the tent entrance. He gave a curt nod, squeezed Ardon's shoulder once more, and then followed the Tiger out of the healers' tent. They walked to the edge of camp where Babur's twin sister waited. Her ears were pinned flat against her skull as she snarled, "I can't find him. The Giants' filth is destroying any trail there might have been. Babur, did you find him?"

The Tiger shook his head then lowered it slightly. "No. I've not seen him since we became separated during the night attack. I thought I saw him fighting at dawn but I am unsure where."

Oreius clenched his fists. The Giants could not take Peter hostage again. That would destroy his colt. "Then let us follow the Giants' trail. We must find him."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! MUWHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAAAAA! Dun, dun, duuuuuun! If I haven't mentioned it before, Bast and Babur are Willowdryad's, she's just letting me borrow them. I know, amazing after what I did to Babur in the last story. ;) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Plans, Fear

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fourteen: Plans, Fear

"Culhwch!" Morrigan laughed as she watched the two-headed Ettin being forced to submit to the ministrations of a bone breaker who sloshed sour wine over his faces every time he pulled an arrow from the Ettin's thick skin. "Culhwch, you almost destroyed everything and you have returned with nothing. Not even food."

The two-headed Ettin suddenly lurched to his feet, shoving the bone breaker aside, and charged her. He said nothing but his eyes were filled with bloodlust. Morrigan sneered. Her four guards leapt into action, catching Culhwch and forcing him to his knees before her. Where he rightfully belonged, the fool. She made a show of sweeping the hem of her skirts back so they no longer touched him and then she drew her wedding knife, which she had driven through the hearts of more than one of her past lovers, and touched the curved, notched blade to Culhwch's nearest neck. "Even those with two heads shall die if the throat of one is cut. You are a fool. Stupid. Arrogant. Go before I decide you have earned your death by Giant hands and not by those of the Narnians or their pet, soft Giants."

She jerked her chin up and the guards dragged Culhwch away. Once he was a safe distance away, they turned him loose and the biggest of them kicked him in the seat of his pants, sending him sprawling before he could right himself. Morrigan allowed herself to laugh.

The two-headed Ettin would try to kill Grog and if he were to become king over the Ettins, she would lose much of the advantage she held over them. She would have to find a way to keep him occupied until his men served their purpose in helping her conquer Narnia with the fewest Harfang lives lost. Then, she would kill Culhwch and enjoy the moment when the pig tasted death on the edge of her knife.

"Queen Morrigan."

She looked up and smiled at her newest pet. She would be entertained at the least. And, she would send one of her hand maidens to distract Culhwch. Macha. She had seen the way his eyes followed the younger Giantess with long black hair. Macha would serve the purpose and she was of Harfang stock, she would not trade loyalty to a filthy Ettin.

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 _Giants were everywhere. Their odious laughter was painfully grating against her ears but she could not raise her hands to block it out. She could not move. Nor could she see what it was that fascinated them so. Then, one of them moved and her breath caught in her chest as though the sharpest of axes had collided with her trunk. No! Oh, Aslan, no!_

 _The rain slid down her cheeks, mingling with tears, as she opened her mouth to scream but it was ripped away from her as the fiercest hurricane might strip her branches of leaves. He was lying in the snow. His face pale but there were twin blotches of color in his cheeks and his nose was red and his mouth . . . She shuddered as she realized the scarlet liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth could be nothing else save blood. Peter's blood. He still had one arm outstretched although the Giants were slowly pulling on his limbs and she could see his fingers trembling as they clawed through the snow to try to reach Rhindon but he failed. He tried and failed. Tried and failed. Over and over again as the Ettins laughed and jeered. "Little king! Little King! Let us bake you in a pie! Little King! Little King! Birds with missing wings can't fly!"_

 _The horrible words crashed over her with a sense of dread and filth that made her feel as though her roots had been drenched by the most stagnant of ponds. Then they pulled. Thalia shook her head, sobbing now as she heard Peter scream. The Giants laughed and then they pulled again. She heard his bones cracking. He screamed so terribly. She sobbed harder. And then as the Giants pulled one last time, she screamed, "Peeeeter!"_

She woke up screaming with tears running down her face, "Peter! Peeeter! Peter!"

The door to their bedchamber burst open and another sob escaped her when she realized the slight figure could not possibly be her Peter. The memory of the nightmare, of what the Giants had done to her poor Peter, swept over her once more and she leapt from the bed, rushing to the empty basin barely in time as she retched, still sobbing. Slender but strong arms came around her and she felt hands pulling her hair back as she retched again. Her sister-in-law's soft murmurs were lost to her ears beneath the sounds of her own heaving sobs and her miserable retching.

When the spasms finally stopped, she felt Lucy rubbing her back even as she handed her a cup of sweet water. "It's all right, Thalia. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Peter's all right. He's going to come home to you. He has to, you know."

Thalia sniffled and then hiccupped, not quite hiding her embarrassment as Lucy helped her into the overlarge dressing gown that actually belonged to Peter and then quietly led her out of her quarters. Her sister-in-law hugged her. "You can stay with me for the rest of the night, Thalia. Peter's always admonishing us to take good care of you, you know, although I doubt we'd need his encouragement to do so."

She didn't seem to have any strength left to answer, much less protest, as Lucy led her past several of the Royal Guard whose presence was far more obvious than usual and their concerned gazes seemingly fixed on her. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and her stomach gave another nauseating flop before she forced her mind away from the nightmare again. She let Lucy fuss over her and tuck her into the large feather bed (although she wouldn't let her take the dressing gown). She closed her eyes as Lucy murmured something about being right back but instantly regretted it as the horrible scene played itself out again. She opened her eyes with a sob just as two weights landed on the bed on either side of her.

The Princess Royal and the Valiant were both looking at her but it was Alambiel who spoke, "Don't worry, Thalia, such nightmares are common for women in our position. We have to stay home and we know enough about what noble idiots our husbands can be that it's natural to worry." Then she handed her a teacup. "Drink this. It will help you sleep and also help settle your stomach."

Thalia drank it without protest. She also wasn't surprised when both the Princess Royal and the Valiant climbed beneath the covers. They weren't as good as having Peter hold her in his strong arms but their presence was certainly comforting. She had nearly dozed off when a faint smile appeared as she listened to Alambiel dryly observe, "Yay, sleepover."

"Kat, shh," Lucy giggled from her other side.

"I'm just saying next time we must have a pillow fight. And, chocolate. Chocolate is an essential part of sleepovers."

"Oh, that does sound good."

"I know, now go to sleep."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Finding Peter

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifteen: Finding Peter

Oreius scanned the trampled landscape dotted with boulders and broken logs. He would have called out for his colt but he feared what any lingering Giants might do if they were to learn the High King was out here. If they did not have him in the first place. Oh Aslan, how he prayed it was not so. He could not bear to see his golden colt broken in such a way again. Not after what had happened the last time.

His foreleg ached with a consistent throb now but he forced himself to keep moving. He could not stop. Not until Peter was found. Bast and Babur had spread out on either side of him, desperately trying to catch Peter's scent among the stench of the Giants, but so far their efforts were proving futile. He climbed the ridge, seeing large dark bloodstains where the Northern Giants had been wounded, and observing furrows where a body had been dragged off.

His footing slipped and the pain in his foreleg sharpened forebodingly, forcing him to come to a standstill. Oreius grimaced at the delay but he knew he would be of no help to his golden colt if he permitted himself to do anything that would result in a broken leg. Neither the High King nor the army could afford for him to have such an injury. His gaze swept over the broken landscape, the soil had been churned up here as well and he could see where the Giants had uprooted the boulders they used to batter the camp yet . . . Yet, there was only one broken log resting in the midst of a muddy patch of soil.

A sense of dread swept over him. The soil had been churned up and softened and even gained a muddy quality but there was no reason for the log to be there unless . . .

Oreius' eyes widened when he caught sight of Rhindon lying only a scant three feet away from the log. "Peter."

There was no response to his quiet call, but he did not truly expect there to be one. It would have been a miracle if the colt had answered him. Ignoring his own injury's protest, Oreius galloped across the loose soil and immediately caught the end of the log in his hands. He hesitated a moment before realizing he had no way of knowing where the colt was caught. Planting his hooves, he wrapped his arms around the log's girth and strained. The log rose in the air. Oreius huffed once, feeling his injuries reacting to the task, and then he threw the log to the left, not caring as it bounced down the hillside then rolled a little before catching on some boulders. All of his attention was on the body at his hooves. "Peter."

There was no response. Oreius knelt in the muddy soil and dug away at the soil until his questing fingers found the colt's neck. He froze, waiting, and then he unleashed a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding as he felt a strong pulse beating beneath his fingers. Thank Aslan. The colt was alive. Unconscious but alive.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Letters from Home 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Sixteen: Letters from Home 4

 _My Peter,_

 _I pray you will forgive me the worry I have caused you. It has simply been impossible to gather my thoughts from the wind and plant their seeds on a sheet of parchment. Please believe me when I tell you I am faring well. No illness is pleasant, of course, but I have weathered the storm without too much damage._

 _Are you well? Oh my love, I am so afraid. I have had a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. Alambiel and Lucy reassure me that it finds its roots in my own memories of what happened last autumn but . . . It is too terrible to share. Please be careful, my strong oak, for those Giants are very eager to fell you with their axes. May Aslan watch over and protect you, my Peter._

 _All of my love,_

 _Thalia_

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 _Dear Peter,_

 _Are you all right? I hope you are and I trust that Oreius is keeping you safe because Thalia woke half the Cair last night with her nightmare. But, don't worry, Kat and I calmed her down and then we stayed with her the rest of the night in my room. Kat said it wasn't one of our better sleepovers so we are going to have a proper one tonight._

 _Be careful! And, don't worry about anything at home. Kat and I have things (and Thalia) well looked after as Mr. Beaver likes to say. Things are certainly quieter right now than they were, though that might be a good thing._

 _Love,_

 _Lucy_

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 _Dear Peter,_

 _If I ever decide it will be less trouble to bring Corin with me on a diplomatic trip than leaving him at the Cair or sending him home, please hit me. Attar is threatening to never captain the Splendor Hyaline again. And, my Wolves have decided that if Corin goes overboard, so must they. Don't ask me why. I haven't the faintest idea._

 _Actually don't hit me. Just lock me in the dungeon until I come to my senses._

 _Yours,_

 _Ed_

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 _To Queen Lucy and Princess Consort Thalia,_

 _I regret that I must inform you the High King has been injured in battle as of yester morn. The healers assure me that he will recover, but there shall be some gap between his letters before he may reply to your most recent missives. Rest assured that he is well looked after and I will send word at once should there be any change in his condition._

 _General Oreius_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Tashbaan

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seventeen: Tashbaan

28 Fairdawn 1014

Opulence seemed to have been the entire goal of the house the Tisroc had granted for the Narnians' use during their stay in Tashbaan. Edmund grimaced at the clashing fabrics of puce and some sort of lemon as he paced around the room. "All I'm saying, Su, is you must take care here. That Rabadash chap was far too smug when he greeted us on the docks like a cat that's found a bowl full of mice. Keep your eyes open."

His sister gave him a look that spoke of her weariness of the topic but her voice remained soft and melodious as ever when she was acting as the Gentle. "Forsooth, Brother, thy protests hath not fallen upon deaf ears yet I bid thee remember that even the sweetest of treats turns sour when it comes in portions too large or too frequent."

He folded his arms over his chest. "Aye. Let me remind you, Sister, that I've enough of the courtly speech when we must deign to speak with the Prince and the Tisroc (may his pies be moldy forever) or when we feel we might be eavesdropped upon but at the moment we are alone and I thank you to speak plainly, Madam."

Susan sighed as she finally stopped looking in the mirror on the dressing table and shifted about on the little bench to look him directly in the eye. "As you wish. But, I do speak plainly, Ed, when I tell you that your insistence on continually reminding me of the dangers of our visit does wear on my nerves. I am aware of the danger. You have hardly let it fade from my mind for more than two minutes since we set foot on the Splendor Hyaline. I know how you and Kat feel regarding this trip but since it is my life, I dare to believe that I am to have some say in how it is to be carried out." She raised a slender hand beseechingly as she continue, her blue eyes pleading, "Please, Ed. You do understand that there is the potential for an alliance here. If the Prince in his natural element is an entirely different creature from what we witnessed in our own fair land, then I shall cast it off but if he is not, then there is as yet no call for your protectiveness to override my own feelings and decisions on the matter.

Edmund frowned. He wasn't at all sure that he liked what he was hearing beneath his older sister's words. However, he didn't want to accuse her or set her back up. They could hardly afford it situated as they were in Tashbaan. It was a miracle that the Tisroc had agreed with his request for a house separate from the grand compound surrounding the Tisroc's palace, especially since he had seen Rabadash look as though he might throw a fit when he heard his father comply with it. Still, they were very vulnerable to spies and the like. It was simply the way of things.

"All right, Su, all right. I'll say no more on this matter. However, you must promise me that you shan't be swept away all willy-nilly by the grand spectacle the Prince no doubt intends to stage for you beginning tonight."

She smiled then rose and glided over to him. "I promise, Edmund." She kissed his cheek. "Now, should you not go check on Corin? He has been very quiet of late."

Which was a rather disturbing thought. When Corin was quiet, Corin was getting into a lot of trouble and it usually smacked of diplomatic woes for Edmund. He offered Susan a half-bow and then left the apartment. It didn't take long to track Corin down, thank Aslan. Although, Edmund rather doubted that either Susan or Lune would approve the dirt-covered boy trying to box Gilceus the Satyr.

Young Prince Corin's eyes were fair glowing with a marital light as he raised both fists. "Come on then! Come on!"

Gilceus had already noticed Edmund's approach as he sidestepped, permitting the boy to go sprawling in the dirt again. The Satyr gave him a questioning look when Edmund didn't immediately make his presence known to the warring boy. Instead, Edmund decided that Kat was right about the boy needing to learn the wisdom of being cautious in picking his opponents. He gave the Satyr a curt nod and held up one finger.

Gilceus sighed then he turned in time to catch Corin's flailing fist with one hand. He shook his head once. "Learn to block."

With that pronouncement hanging in the air, the Satyr cuffed Corin on the side of his head with just enough force to send the boy sprawling and he would no doubt have a pretty bruise on his cheek come noon tomorrow.

The boy surged back to his feet with a war cry. Edmund was tempted to cover his eyes to shut out the painful sight of a very sloppy attack that wouldn't even catch an Ogre off-guard. A throat cleared behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Peridan standing there, his critical gaze also fixed on the 'boxing match' taking place in the stable yard. Edmund quirked an eyebrow. "You disapprove?"

"Forgive me, My King, but I fear this demonstration will only encourage his little highness in pursuing his reckless habits. If Lune were to lose his only heir . . ."

Peridan let the words hang unspoken between them but Edmund heard them clearly enough. No doubt many on the council believed that Narnia was risking her alliance and friendship with Archenland by Edmund's decision to take Corin with him and Su to Tashbaan. But, he had told Corin they would do something exciting and the boy had made it clear that he thought visiting evil Calormen (his words, not anyone else's) would be the grandest of adventures. And, Edmund was a little afraid that Kat was still in enough of a bad temper (she had gotten a letter from Oreius that had put her out of sorts even after she was recovering from her bout of food poisoning) that she would carry through on some of her threats toward Corin. Letting the Princess Royal of Narnia beat some manners into the Crown Prince of Archenland would have been a worse disaster in scale, although he was certain Lune would be on her side once he learned why she had finally had enough of Corin. Best not to risk it.

"Well, we start exploring Tashbaan tomorrow and maybe the sights will distract him further." Turning his attention back to the stable yard, Edmund watched as Gilceus tossed Corin into the water trough. The prince came up spluttering and uttering phrases that most certainly did not belong on any gentleman's tongue. Edmund scowled and stomped toward the stable yard. "Prince Corin, I've told you not to use such phrases. They are beneath you." He hauled the boy out of the water trough and made him face the soldiers. "Apologize to Lieutenant Gilceus for the names you called him and to the others for forcing them to listen to such language. And, you had best hope Her Majesty did not hear you."

He certainly hoped Susan didn't hear or learn of it. Because he knew quite well his elder sister's wrath would primarily be direct at him. Never mind the fact that he did his best not to indulge his temper and curse when Corin was about and he certainly didn't teach him four of those names.

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14 Greenroof 1014

"Edmund!" Susan's voice was strained as it reached his ears and Edmund nearly tripped over where Remus was sprawled across the doorway in his haste to see what was the matter. He sprinted down the hall with the yipping Wolves at his heels.

Bursting into the sitting room, he was surprised to see Peridan, grave-faced, and the rest of their courtiers including his sister's ladies-in-waiting all arrayed around Susan who was in tears. "Su? What is it? What's happened?" His mind flew to Rabadash's most recent and not very subtle attempt to make him give an answer for Susan and his jaw clenched. "Did that chap do something to harm you?"

She hiccupped and sniffled. "No!" She looked up at him through her tears and, even though he was still more at ease letting Peter be the comforter during such situations, he crossed to her and put an arm around her shaking shoulders. She sniffled again and then pressed a sodden handkerchief to her eyes. "Oh Edmund! I've lost him! What shall I say to his father? He'll never forgive me! Never! Not after all he'd been through when Corin was just a babe! And losing his wife. Oh, Ed! I'm such a terrible guardian! I've lost him. Oh, poor Corin!" She stiffened suddenly and then twisted so she could grasp his undertunic with unyielding fingers. "What if they enslave him? Oh, Edmund!"

"Su." He cleared his throat again then withdrew his arm from around her shoulders so he could place both hands over hers. "Susan, it's not your fault. Corin probably found a boxing match he couldn't resist. Look, he'll probably come back at nightfall, hungry as any lad his age who's neglected a meal or two, and I shall make him apologize most handsomely to you then if you want we can clap him up in the Splendor Hyaline for safekeeping tomorrow. Ow!" He leaned back, rubbing his arm where she had pinched him, now glaring through her tears. "What?"

"That isn't the least bit funny, Edmund Alexander Pevensie! Corin is missing. And, it's all my fault. How are we to find him in a city as big as Tashbaan? What if some unscrupulous innkeeper were to get a hold of him?" She blanched, her lips trembling as she finished in a whisper, "You know how fascinated the Calormenes are with fair-skinned northerners."

Edmund knew. Getting to his feet, he paced the room a bit, not caring as the courtiers moved out of his way and then flowed back into their former positions as easily as the rolling surf ebbed and flowed on the beach. "All right, all right. I wish we had discovered his absence sooner but there's no helping that now. We can't all go out and search for him because that would give away that we've misplaced him. We'll have to be clever about this." He reached down and took Susan's hands, pulling her to her feet. "We also can't avoid attending the feast tonight. Rabadash and the Tisroc are expecting us. So, Sister, I counsel you to this action: Scrub your face and let your ladies tend to you as your beauty is put to rights and none may suspect that you are in the grasp of any sort of turmoil. I shall stay by your side tonight. If his little lordship has not brought himself back by this eve, we shall set out for another tour tomorrow afternoon, Peridan and I and the rest of the lads, while you, Marsalla, and your ladies wait here should Corin return before we do. I would go in the morn, Sister, but I am to spend it in the unenviable company of your suitor." He paused then decided against mentioning his growing suspicions regarding what Rabadash was plotting. Su had enough upset at the moment. He wasn't going to add to it. "By tomorrow night, we shall have the young scamp where he belongs. In the Splendor Hyaline's hold."

"Oh Ed!" Susan looked torn between scolding and crying some more but instead she hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Brother. Your plan does much to ease my mind." She looked to her ladies. "Leeta?" The Nymph who, like the others of her ladies had been invited to come for her close resemblance to a Daughter of Eve, stepped forward and led the flock of women in surrounding his sister and sweeping her away without another word being uttered.

Edmund had no doubts they would set his sister to rights in no time and her dazzling beauty would be as unmarred as usual. He turned to Peridan. "Have some of our lads go out in the morn under the pretense of escorting the Gentle's ladies to market and search for the young prince if he's not returned tonight. And, instruct the guards to let him in at once if they should spot him limping down the street."

Peridan bowed. Striding back to his own appointed chamber, Edmund threw himself into the chair with a hearty groan. "Why?"

"Alpha?"

"What is Remus?"

"Can we help you look for the lost puppy?"

He caught himself just before he agreed. The Calormenes had made it clear that the Wolves managed to make them even more uneasy than anyone save perhaps Mr. Tumnus. If they had been in Narnia or Archenland or any country other than Calormen, he would have agreed. But they weren't. Resting his hand in Remus' thick ruff, Edmund pet the Wolf absently before he finally answered, "Actually, I need you two to stay here with Queen Susan and the rest of the ladies. I want to make sure they stay safe while I'm out looking for the puppy."

Remus leaned into his hand, letting his fingers rub at the base of his ear. "We'll keep them safe, Alpha."

His brother nodded. "We will, Alpha." Then he shoved his head beneath Edmund's other hand so he could get an ear rub too.

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Corin rubbed his hands together with glee as he watched the man on the corner swallow a sword. He wondered if he could convince Shane or Thane to try it. It would have to be where none of the grownups would catch them, though. The Princess Royal had set all three of them to the boring work of cleaning the armory after someone turned every bit of armor inside out and moved everything around when she caught them trying out a trick with her throwing knives. And King Edmund had forbidden him from having any cake for afters once supper was over. He tossed a shilling into the man's cup when the chap drew his sword out again and offered a flourishing bow with far too much hand movement.

He would have used the Narnian silver but he thought regular Archenlandish money would draw less attention. Besides, he had more of that in his purse than that Narnian money Queen Susan had given him so he could buy anything that caught his eye when they went walking through the markets of Tashbaan. Seeing the man wasn't going to perform another trick, Corin turned away and continued wandering down the streets. His stomach grumbled and his thoughts had just turned to wondering what supper would be waiting on him when he returned to the house when he heard a group of boys laughing. One lad, a boy about his age or maybe a year or two younger, was almost braying in his mule-like laughter as he jeered, "That barbarian queen of the north? Wife to our own Crown Prince Rabadash? No! He's only going to add her to the harem. After all, just because some little country full of demons declares her a queen, it doesn't make her anything but a" he uttered a beastly name that made Corin's blood run hot.

Shoving through the other boys who were laughing at the beastly joke, Corin didn't give the boy time to react before he punched him in the mouth. The boy stumbled back and then sat down hard. He raised his now dirty fingers to touch his mouth and his dark eyes widened as he drew them back stained with his own blood. "You jackal!" he cried as he leapt to his feet again, seeming not to notice that his comrades had scattered. "By Tash, you shall pay for this!"

Corin laughed and raised both fists. "I'll box you without fear for that one! How dare you impugn Queen Susan's honor?"

The boy let out a shout and swung his fist at him. Remembering his fight with Gilceus, Corin stepped into the blow, catching the other boy's fist with one hand and hitting him square in the nose. The other boy fell again. This time he covered his face with both hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You broke it! You broke it!"

"Stand back up and lemme straighten it!" Corin cried, enjoying himself now.

However, the boy wasn't a very good sport. Instead, he picked himself up and ran down the street howling about the unfairness of it all before he disappeared into a house. Corin followed him in hopes that the boy or one of his comrades who had dared to laugh would come and give him a good fight. He watched the boy disappear into the house, still raising a ruckus, and shook his head in disgust. Just when the fight was getting good too. Lowering his fists, he turned to leave when someone caught a hold of the neck of his tunic and yanked hard enough that he heard the fabric rip as he was pulled backwards. Twisting out of the hold, he spun around to see a bigger boy, one was closer to King Edmund's or Tarrin's ages than his own, glaring down at him. He even had the beginnings of a scraggly beard clinging to his dark cheeks. He looked Corin over with contempt. "You're the one who attacked my brother, barbarian?"

Corin lifted his chin. "It was nothing he didn't deserve. 'Sides, he's the one who ran away wailing like he needed his mummy's apron to hide behind instead of fighting like a proper lad. What is he four?"

The older boy's face contorted with anger as he hissed, "Why you dog and son of jackals! By Tash and Nasreddin, I shall teach you to mind your betters hereafter!"

Corin's gaze swept over the bigger boy, noting his clothing was more of the rich merchant's class. "You don't even recognize your betters. How could you teach me anything? 'Sides, your brother insulted Queen Susan."

"The barbarian witch deserves every slur cast at her filthy skirts. I-" The older boy cut off mid-insult as Corin slammed both fists into his soft gut. Then he cursed and grabbed Corin's tunic again. Tossing him back, he tried to knock Corin down but he dodged the strike. He kicked at the bigger boy's shins, feeling a vicious satisfaction when his opponent howled. Then, he struck the boy in the right eye. Oh, he hoped that turned into a beautiful black eye.

The boy wheezed another curse. Corin danced to the left, easily dodging his wildly swinging fist, and then he punched the boy in his other eye. Sticking his foot out, he tripped the bigger boy as he stumbled past. He made such a ridiculous sight as he went sprawling face first in the dirt with his rear sticking up in the air that Corin laughed. "Certainly not my better. I have prettier landings."

"Get him!" came the shout of the younger boy, the one who had started it.

Corin swiftly realized that both boys were coming at him now. He considered fighting them both, certain he could knock them both down, but not here. A crowd was gathering and there were a lot of unfriendly faces glaring at him now. It would be better to fight the boys where he knew he could get away again without causing too much trouble with the Tisroc. Spinning on his heel, Corin fled down an alleyway. The shouts and curses didn't fade as he ran. He grinned. The boys were going to follow him. He would have another good fight, after all.

He ran with the boys chasing him until he turned a corner and slammed into three old men. He hurriedly picked up himself up again but one of the men grabbed his ankle. "Hold, O miscreant! Hold!"

He suddenly realized the old men were wearing armor and three spears had clattered to the pavement. The other boys turned and fled, ignoring the calls of the old men. "Hold, O miscreants! Hold in the name of the Watch!"

Corin kicked loose of the old man's grasp a moment too late. The other two men had already regained their feet. One of the men pointed at him. "To jail with him. We shall see what the magistrate shall have to say about this young barbarian causing a riot in Tashbaan's fair streets."

"Fair streets?" Corin jeered as he raised his fists determinedly. "Look at the filth you've been rolling in, sirs, and call these streets fair again. You shan't take me!"

"Grab him!" came the cry.

Corin slammed his fist into one man's gut only to barely duck out of the way of a flying spear butt. He kicked at another man. One of the men punched him in the eye, knocking him to the ground. Corin scrambled back up and let out a terrific shout as he hurtled into another of the men, knocking him flat. He jumped to his feet and tried to flee only for the end of a spear to smack him in the mouth. He tasted blood and spat, thinking he might have seen a tooth too. Then hands grasped him by the tunic and painfully yanked on his hair as they dragged him to his feet again. He squirmed but it was of no use. The men's grip were too sure.

The sun was setting and his stomach growled. The men, this Watch, gave no indication that they heard it as they glared down at him. Corin took some satisfaction in seeing that one of them was squinting at him out of a rapidly swelling eye. This one snapped, "Come, we shall drag him to the Watch's headquarters and put him in a cell for the night. Now, O miscreant, you shall feel the bite of the lash before you are loosed on the streets again."

Corin opened his mouth to protest but then an idea made him close it again. He ceased squirming and walked along cooperatively as he searched for a likely shop. He was quite certain even King Edmund would approve of his thinking this time. He spied an inviting-looking little shop down the street and cleared his throat. "Well, now that you've caught me, wouldn't you like to quench the thirst you've worked up? After all, if anyone's earned a stoup of wine, it would be the three of you. Don't you think so?" He saw them hesitate and he grabbed his purse and jiggled it letting the coins rattle together. They perked up at the sound of coins and he grinned. "I'd be happy to pay for it myself."

One of the old men grinned, licking his lips. "So the poet wrote, 'It is only a fool who shuns wine freely given.'"

The other two began to nod and the one with a black eye. "We have earned it, O friends. Very well, O Child, purchase us wine and perhaps we shall give a kinder report to the magistrate than one such as you deserves."

"You are most merciful, O Masters," Corin intoned dutifully. He smothered a grin as he led them to the wine shop and ordered their finest (and most potent) vintage. He himself brought it to the table where the old men had arrayed themselves.

He waited as the old men sat and drank and talked until one by one they began to nod off. He sat quiet as a mouse as the last fellow finally lowered his head to rest on his crossed arms and a wheezy snore soon filled the air. One of his companions snorted and mumbled in his sleep but he didn't wake up. Corin decided to wait a few more minutes even though he itched to be off and making his way back to the house already. Finally, when a chorus of wheezy snores and snorts filled the air for the span of ten minutes without break, he silently got up from his chair and placed two more silver shillings on the table in hopes the wine shop owner would resist waking the Watch until morning. Sneaking out of the little shop, Corin stopped and scanned the street. No one was about.

Taking himself back the way the Watch had dragged him, Corin hadn't gone far when he spotted a slight figure skulking about in the shadows. The boy from before was watching him. Corin scowled. "Not learned your lesson yet? Fine!"

Without giving the boy a chance to run off like a coward again, he pounced. He slugged the boy in the gut and then he punched him in the mouth. The boy's fist bounced lamely off his shoulder. Corin scoffed, "Your punch would only scare a baby." Then, he punched the boy in the nose and knocked him down. "There, I've straightened it for you. Go home to your mummy before I decide it looks better crooked!"

Suddenly recalling the Watch, Corin sprinted away from the boy who was still rolling around pathetically clutching at his face. He had to get away before another patrol came down the streets. And, there was little chance he'd be able to find his way back to the house at night. His steps slowed as he caught sight of a pipe. Sprinting over to it, he tugged on it and then climbed hand over hand up its length until he reached the flat roof of the house. Sprawling on his stomach, Corin held his breath as he peered over the edge at the street below. The boy who had started it out was blubbering softly as he limped past but he never looked up. Then, sometime later, a group of much younger and much fitter men marched down the street. No doubt, they made a more effective Watch and they wouldn't be inclined to accept any wine. Corin edged back so he was fully hidden the street below and lay quiet. He would just have to wait until sunup. His stomach growled. At least, he'd had two good fights. And one very satisfying thrashing of a boy who would never speak ill of Queen Susan again.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! I hope you're enjoying the behind-the-scenes nature of this chapter. I pulled from Edmund's scolding of Shasta as well as Susan's greeting of him to inspire what happened when Corin first disappeared. The language used by the Calormene boy is intentionally less formal than most Calormenes use because I decided a group of boys hanging out together most likely wouldn't be as polite/formal as they would in other situations. The actual fights as well as Corin's escapade are drawn from Corin's explanation to Shasta in HHB with my own expounding upon how I think things could have turned out. More of Edmund and co in Tashbaan soon! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Solutions

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eighteen: Solutions

14 Greenroof 1014

Peter groaned as he swung his feet to touch the ground. His shoulder was aching like there was an Ettin stomping on it and his upper back ached too.

"Your Majesty, you should be lying still."

He ignored Bast and got to his feet, swaying slightly as his vision went black for a brief moment and then cleared, but he didn't fall over which was certainly an improvement. A bloody fortnight in that hammock while the Ettins milled around just beyond reach. He wasn't going to wait any longer. Oreius had already led one attack on some Giants three days past. He wasn't going to sit out for another battle when there was no need.

Babur's immovable weight crashed against his legs, sending him back into the hammock. Peter groaned as his shoulder protested with a lance of pain. But, the Tigers looked entirely unrepentant as they glared at him. He grit his teeth. "I am getting up."

"No." Bast turned her head to look at the Faun healer who had been standing silently in the corner, warily watching him as his cloven hooves danced a little jig in place, no doubt he was imagining all sorts of disasters worthy of a Marsh-Wiggle. The Tigress' growl made him jump a little as she said, "Noctus, did you give the High King permission to leave his bed?"

"Not yet." The Faun looked at him with mournful eyes. "It truly would be best, Your Majesty, if you remain abed a few more days."

"How long?"

"A fortnight, at the very least, but-"

"A fortnight!" Peter struggled to get his feet on the ground again although he didn't push up yet since Babur was standing so close and looking rather mutinous. "I cannot stay abed any longer, Master Noctus. There is a campaign going on and I am expected to lead it. My understanding is that there's another group of Giants approaching the south. We have to stop them and by the Lion I daresay I shall be at the front of that charge. I've been absent from the field far too long as it is, good fellow. Now let me be."

"But, Your Majesty, I do not think your shoulder has completely healed and the muscles in your back were under terrible strain when that log crushed you. Thank Aslan for the softness of the soil around you, else I fear your wounds would have been utterly devastating. Crushed ribs and perhaps even your spine and neck as well. It could have killed you or at least rendered the use of the cordial an absolute necessity."

Peter groaned again, this time from exasperation. The healers were all worrying over nothing. He really was feeling much better. Bast gave him a warning look. "The Just, the Gentle, the Valiant, and the Princess Consort all gave me express orders to sit on you should be you injured and refusing to listen to the healers, My King. I will do so if you attempt to leave your hammock again. The General is a capable commander, after all."

He glared at her. "I know it! Of course, Oreius is capable. He's Oreius."

A new voice entered the argument with a very dry observation, "I am honored by your confidence, Sire." Oreius' dark eyes studied him for half a heartbeat and then he continued sternly, "However, Sir Wolfsbane, I must point out that our soldiers will take greater heart knowing that you are not pushing yourself to the verge of disaster. Collapsing in the middle of battle would be far more disheartening than knowing that you, like other injured in the campaign, are recovering from your wounds."

Peter grimaced. "Did you not say it would be disastrous if either of us were gone from the battlefield too long?"

"That was not in regards to injury, Wolfsbane, as you well know." The General turned to the healer. "When is the soonest he may take up the sword again?"

"Two days, but I don't think he'd be able to carry his shield."

As soon as Oreius looked at him, Peter raised his chin. "You yourself taught me to fight with and without my shield, General."

The Centaur bowed his dark head. "So I did, My King." He glanced back at the healer. "In two days' time, you will give me an assessment of his progress, if you agree he is improved to the point that he might at least keep his seat without falling off, then I see no reason that he may not participate in the battle."

Noctus nodded, still looking torn between reluctance and relief that Peter obviously wasn't going to be allowed to fight right away. "As you say, General. Your Majesty, I shall bring you supper now. Please remain in your bed."

Peter sighed, "Very well, Noctus." He waited until the Faun had left before addressing his next question to Oreius, "Are you certain we can wait two days?"

"I am. The Giants fell back after their failed ambush and this more sheltered area in the canyons has thus far prevented them from successfully creeping up on us again. Take your rest now, My King. I will bring you the battle plans to look over tomorrow after the noon meal."

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Oreius entered the healers' tent as silently as he could and went directly to the bed. Ardon was awake this time. His face was drawn with pain and still pale beneath his bronze coloring but he looked better than he had been. When Ardon saw him, he offered a half-grin. "The healers were poking at my wounds just a bit ago. I am still attempting to catch my breath."

"You still look terrible. What would Alithia say?"

"She would probably scold and then hover until she was assured I could handle another scolding." The other Centaur took a shaky breath as he pushed himself up on an elbow. "And, what of your wife, Oreius? What did she say in regards to that question of yours?"

Oreius hid a wince as he recalled the very irate letter that made him think that Alambiel would have been holding one of her many knives to his ribs if she had been with him. Instead, he glared at his friend. "Your foolish advice has apparently resulted in Alambiel's declaring war on my armory."

"Oh." Ardon's brow furrowed then he snickered. "So was that answer a yes or a no? She could declare war on your armory either if she experienced mood swings."

"No, it was most definitely a no and I have absolutely nothing to report to the High King on. I shall also have to repair my armory when this campaign is finally ended." He paused then added in a deadpan voice, "She also realized it was your suggestion that I inquire on the matter. She was not at all appreciative of your interference."

Ardon finally looked a little worried. "Is she going to come after me too?"

"I have no idea." Oreius considered his wife's fiery temper and how well she held grudges once she had been riled enough. She was certainly riled enough. "I rather hope she does."

The other Centaur stallion snorted. "How friendly of you, Oreius."

"You caused this mess. It is only just that you receive some of the punishment she has decided to mete out." He paused then added, "Has Alithia learned you were injured?"

"No and I shall thank you not to inform her or your own wife who would most likely inform my wife. Alithia has enough to concern her between caring for Solon and also preparing for the new foal." Ardon picked up a folded parchment and held it almost reverently as he continued, "Her most recent letter makes me think this foal has not made it easy thus far and Solon is always a handful. Though, she writes that he has taken to bothering his aunt more often now."

Oreius couldn't hide his grin. "I'm sure Alambiel is delighted. She probably enjoys it more than chasing after the young prince."

Ardon chuckled. "Yes, probably. For if my colt ever caused so much trouble, he would bring his dam's wrath down him very quickly and she would not abide such behavior at all. Dams always seem more effective at such things than sires." He eased back on the pillows and sighed. "I will be up soon, though."

"The sooner the more you rest, my friend."

Oreius made his round of the healers' tent, noting which soldiers would be on their feet sooner and which he was beginning to feel would have to be sent home. Slipping out into the night, he watched the stars for several hours. They spoke only of perseverance and toiling. It seemed there would be no clear victory in the next few days but such was the way of wartime. Pacing around the perimeter, he took the reports of the watch and checked again to ensure the shifts would overlap instead of presenting any dangerous gaps in their vigilance as they rotated. The new camp was more sheltered and would better serve as a base for their campaign but there was always a risk.

Finally, when he could not think of any more tasks to carry out or anything else he might inspect, he returned to his tent. He was surprised to see a single unopened letter resting on the table and more surprised when he spied Alambiel's handwriting. His own most recent letter to her he had only sent off five days past. He had been preoccupied the entirety of their anniversary and had not found the time to set any words to parchment until after the day had passed. Opening the letter, he admitted to the slightest hesitancy in reading it for fear that it would be a gleeful report of what damage she had wrought on his armory in retaliation of his apparently unwelcome and most errant question.

 _Oreius,_

 _If I've guessed right, you're worried I'm going to be talking about your armory. Well, I am. Just not how you are probably dreading with all that paranoia you possess._

 _Because tomorrow is our anniversary, I have decided to waive punishment. For now, anyway. It's more effective when you are here to witness and experience it. I never thought I'd be missing being thrown in the sea but I am. I'm bored. Except when Solon decides to wake me up at the crack of dawn. That's always such fun._

 _Don't worry I haven't done anything too outrageous recently. However, I'm apparently going to box the brat soon. He won't stop trying to box me and really he does need to learn. Edmund's warning about grownup ladies who can easily thrash him didn't really sink in the way he wanted._

 _Your cousins have been trying to entertain me but I don't play pranks on them. They would probably run away before even considering tossing me into the ocean as retaliation. Besides that's your thing to do. I miss you._

 _Try to stay in one piece, will you? And, remember I want my necklace back._

 _Love,_

 _Alambiel_

He chuckled as he read her familiar teasing words. At least, she was feeling better. No, Stormwind definitely would not dare to treat his wife so familiarly, not after they had had their falling out two years past. Tugging off his armor and tunic, Oreius washed up as he pondered whether Alambiel had guessed Stormwind's feelings toward her. No, she couldn't have. She would not be speaking so easily of his cousins attempting to entertain her if she knew.

He reached up to touch her dam's pendant and sighed heavily. He had another suspicion regarding this campaign and he knew it would disappoint Alambiel unless she came north. She might now that her knee was almost fully healed. However, he suspected it would not be until after the Just and Gentle returned from Calormen. He did not quite know how he felt about the possibility of Alambiel coming north and joining the campaign. He glanced once more at her letter and then traced his finger over her signature before he added it to the stack of her previous missives and stored the package once more beneath his pillow.

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15 Greenroof 1014

Thalia wrapped both arms around her middle as she stood watching the Valiant and the Princess Royal setting out the picnic. Queen Lucy looked up at her. "Don't you want some, Thalia?"

She nodded even as she wished she'd been sleeping better. She was sore and tired from yet another night tossing and turning except when she got up and paced or, worse, retched from the foul memories of her night terrors. The General had only sent a verbal message in reply to her frantic message inquiring after her Peter's injuries. _He is well. He is recovering._

Oh, she wished the General were here now so that she might explain to him that there was a vast difference between Peter being well and Peter recovering. As vast a difference as that between a summer shower and a fierce hailstorm that tore branches from trees. She wished Peter were here. Then the campaign would be over and her husband would be home where he was needed.

"Thalia."

She startled and a hand flew to her throat as she stifled a scream. Feeling embarrassment's telling flush creep into her cheeks, Thalia ducked her head slightly and scurried to take a seat on the blanket with the other two women. Alambiel was watching her. "This is because Oreius is terrible at being reassuring when he's in his I'm the General mode of operation, isn't it?"

Thalia's brow furrowed but she couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't be an affront to the Princess Royal or her husband. Alambiel just nodded. "I knew it. I should have broken the armory. It's doomed anyway."

"What did Oreius ask that made you so irritable, Kat?"

"Only the one thing he absolutely shouldn't, Lucy." Alambiel handed her some tea and then changed the subject to what they were going to do to answer the Rabbits' request for an even larger burrow when a Coyote family had already been granted it. Thalia barely paid any attention to the conversation flowing around her. Her thoughts kept turning to Peter. Was he well? Was he behaving for the healers? Or was he being stubborn and determined and bravely hunting Giants despite his injuries?

"Thalia?"

She jumped again and her eyes flew to meet Lucy's apologetic gaze. Alambiel cleared her throat. "I think I have a solution for you."

Thalia could only gaze at her in mute question. The older Nymph smiled faintly. "Why don't you go see your parents for a month or two? Being out of the public eye would certainly help ease your nerves and there's nothing at all unusual about a woman going to visit her parents, especially when her husband isn't home to make the Cair actually feel like home."

"A month or two? But what if they return in the interim?"

She was grateful that Alambiel seemed to know she was not speaking of King Edmund, Queen Susan, and young Prince Corin. The Princess Royal gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Then I shall personally come and get you. They'll write us with the good news beforehand and even then the border patrols will no doubt send warning. Go and see your parents and Vedis. I'm sure you've been missing them too, have you not?"

She nodded. "I have but I did not know if King Edmund would approve of my leaving Cair Paravel when I have some duties as Princess Consort and he has been so stern about keeping careful track of our words and movements so we do not give anything away to someone who might wish harm on Narnia."

"And yet he's in Tashbaan," Alambiel murmured. "Edmund's not going to fuss over his sister-in-law visiting her family. We'll give you a proper escort, of course, but there's no reason to forbid contact with your family."

"Of course, there isn't," Lucy chimed in. "And, if Edmund even thinks about saying anything to you about it or bringing you back to the Cair before you wish to leave, why I shan't let him. He means well but he can be a bit of a bully about these things. He doesn't mean it, though, and once he realized it, he shall apologize too. And, Thalia, if you felt bullied, you should have said something. Ed would have been quite ashamed to realize how his rules were coming across to you."

Thalia immediately shook her head. "Oh please don't scold him, I beg you, Lucy. I know he is only trying his best to protect Peter when he cannot be on the battlefield with him as he no doubt wishes." She hesitated then added in a very soft voice, "I will go visit my parents. I have missed them. And, Vedis as well, since she doesn't care as much for life here at the Cair anymore. I rather think she simply feels more comfortable in the grove right now. Perhaps I shall too with the good soil beneath my roots again."

"I think it will be good for you," Alambiel nodded her approval. "I'll arrange your escort this evening and you may leave tomorrow morn."

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15 Greenroof 1014

"Way! Way for the White Barbarian King!"

Edmund hid a grimace as he watched the crowds solidify into tight lines in response to the crier's warning call. How in the worlds was he to find that scalawag if the boy were pressed up against the buildings by the crowd? He glanced to his right and smiled pleasantly as he asked Peridan, "Anything catch your eye, my lord?"

"Not as of yet, Sire."

Edmund almost sighed as he nodded. Instead, he forced himself to strike up a conversation with one of the newer lords who had come to Cair Paravel in the last year or so, joking and laughing about the rewards of a joust over those of a decent swordfight. They absolutely could not afford to let the Calormenes know anything was amiss. Of course, Su had cried off meeting with Rabadash this morn after she had spent all night weeping over the imagined perils that must have befallen Corin. When he got his hands on that little brat, oh he would shake some sense into him and maybe swat it into him. If his little highness wished to act like a boy of younger years, by the Lion he would treat him as one until he earned the privilege of being treated his own age again.

Considering he had pummeled the last bloke who had dared to make Susan cry, the young prince would be getting very lightly by comparison. He scanned the crowds, hunting for what would be the only fair face in the midst of the Calormenes. They turned the corner and the crier called out again, "Way! Way! Way!" Edmund could see the crowd scurrying to clear a path. The crier called even louder, "Way for the White Barbarian King, the guest of the Tisroc (may he live forever)! Way for the Narnian lords!"

Peridan started whistling. Edmund almost rolled his eyes at the crier's increased pomposity. Honestly, the chap was coming near to calling out a description good enough for any bounty hunter or a writ of arrest to be drawn up without ever clapping eyes on him. Dornford of the Seven Isles was chattering with one of his comrades. The son of the governor had come along, confiding a wish to escape the turmoil his triplet half-siblings (two girls and a boy) were causing with their teething and the toddler girl child his father and new bride had first been graced with. Edmund had to admit it sounded rather crowded at the governor's palace since Dornford had also mentioned his father saw no reason for him and his own wife to move to a different wing. His eyes passed over the crowd and then he stopped short. Corin was staring at their group from the first row of the crowd. He pointed. "There he is! There's our runaway!"

In two swift steps, he reached the little beast and caught him by the shoulder. Fuming, he gave the boy a sharp smack just to let him know he was certainly not to charm his way out of this one. He gave Corin a shake as the rest of their party ringed around him, further preventing the boy from indulging in more mischief. "Shame on you, my lord! Fie for shame! Queen Susan's eyes are red with weeping because of you. What! Truant for a whole night! Where have you been?"

Corin swallowed hard and then threw a wild glance over his shoulder. Edmund followed his gaze and frowned as he spied naught but a grey horse among the crowd who had pressed back even further at their commotion. He looked back down at Corin with a scowl. If he found the boy had been going around trying to see if any Narnians were among the horses of Tashbaan, he'd tan his hide. It was far too dangerous to accuse the Tisroc of abducting their people and wrongfully enslaving them. The coarse material of Corin's tunic made Edmund shake his head. He would have the truth out of the boy but not here and now. "Take one of his little lordship's hands, Peridan, of your courtesy, and I'll take the other." He grasped the boy's hand firmly in his as Peridan grasped his other hand. Confident now that Corin would not be able to run off without warning again, Edmund gestured sharply toward the side street that would lead them back to the house. "And now, on. Our royal sister's mind will be greatly eased when she sees our young scapegrace safe in our lodging." Or, in the Splendor Hyaline's hold. He was still of half a mind to secure Corin there after this latest escapade.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! So, all the dialogue in Edmund's section except for the opening three lines has been lifted directly from HHB. Now we have my version of Edmund's view of what happened that day in the market. Of course, if you've read the story, you know exactly who Edmund has caught. If not, you really should read it. It's one of my favorites and is a lovely glimpse into what was happening during the Golden Age. This is also the last true intersection with Lewis' story although there's a bit more ahead that is "behind the scenes" to the official story. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about it.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Into the Fray

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nineteen: Into the Fray

Peter gazed out into the foggy landscape, narrowing his eyes as he did so. He could just make out the shapes of seven Giants skulking through the narrow canyon. He glanced at the Cheetah commander next to Izar and nodded. The Big Cat pulled his lips back in a silent snarl then he and the other Big Cats moved out on silent paws. Peter clenched the hilt of his sword tightly, hardly daring to breathe for fear it would be magnified by the fog.

He and Oreius had come up with this plan. And, by the Lion, he had to admit that he was loath to give up the chance to be on the front lines again. Sitting around waiting for news and reports was bloody awful. He had a touch more sympathy for Edmund now. Of course, Corin was no doubt keeping his brother well preoccupied. The Big Cats were closer now. He could just make out their lithe shapes rushing toward the lumbering Giants.

He tensed. Oreius would lead the rest of the troops in an attack after his own forces engaged. Almost there. Peter shifted his weight forward slightly. Izar tossed his mane. He could feel the collective breath of the soldiers behind being held as they all waited for the signal.

Then a Giant cursed. Another screamed. The Big Cats' roars, hisses, and shrieks filled the air. Peter raised Rhindon. "For Aslan!"

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"If you are lying, I'll kill you."

"I speak truth."

Culhwch growled in response and roughly shoved himself out of the mass of furs forming his bed. He paced the tent, fists clenching and unclenching, before he turned back to the bed and its remaining occupant. This time he ignored Macha's tumbling hair and how it fell softly over her shoulders in an open invitation for his touch. Her brown eyes met his solemnly. "They tell her. She tells them to do something else. They listen. It is her way."

Covering the distance to the bed in two long strides, Culhwch went down on one knee and caught a handful of Macha's black locks in his fist, twisting and pulling so her head was tilted back, leaving her neck exposed to the blade of his knife. "If you are lying to me, I will make you scream for death, Harfanger."

"I have not lied to you before." She stared at him without fear, something he sometimes enjoyed, as she countered, "I risk my life telling you anything of her plans. She killed my mother. There is nothing stopping her from killing me too save I am useful to her." Macha's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head a little further back, causing the knife to draw the first drops of blood. "Macha is not smart. Macha is pretty. Macha catches Ettin."

Culhwch stared down at her and then he abruptly let her go. He ignored her muttered curse as she fell hard into the furs. Instead, he rose to his feet again. "Who?"

"Borag and Culloch." Macha idly touched her fingers to her throat. "Culloch is Morrigan's new pet. He would do anything for her."

Including betray him. Culhwch's temper flared and he uttered an oath then he charged from the tent. The Ettins lingering around the camp tripped over their weapons, their food, and their own feet in an effort to get away from him. A shout rose from the distance. The Giants he had sent to raid Narnia's borders were returned too soon. Culhwch saw one battered and bloody Ettin come stumbling into camp, blubbering about the ghosts working with the Narnians and killing his brothers and cousins. His vision turned red. Culloch and Borag emerged from their tents and then Culloch looked at his fellow Ettin with a smirk. They both jumped as Culhwch howled, "Traitors!"

He did not give them time to flee. Wrenching a spear from one of the fat idiots who should have been standing guard, Culhwch hurled it at Borag. Stomping over to the Giant as he fell to his knees, Culhwch grasped the spear again and slowly twisted it deeper into Borag's gut. He sneered at the sniveling traitor. Then, as Borag shuddered and gasped his last, he turned attention on Culloch. The other Ettin hadn't fled. His pasty face above his matted beard told of the desire but he didn't flee. Culhwch almost respected him for that. However, it could not make up for Culloch's betrayal of him.

The other Ettin grasped a knife. He flicked it at him. "Get dressed, Culhwch."

Culhwch sneered. "I don't need clothes to rid myself of traitors." He ran at Culloch. The other Giant swiped at him, missing pitifully. Culhwch allowed himself to laugh. It was truly pathetic. He drove his knife into Culloch's eye and then wrapped both hands around his throat, squeezing. He stared into Culloch's good eye and hissed, "Was Morrigan's bed warm enough to make you kiss death? Traitor! Kin slayer!"

Culloch made no answer. He gasped and thrashed weakly as Culhwch's grip on his throat tightened. His remaining eye bulged and then Culhwch wrenched his neck, producing a resounding crack. Getting to his feet, Culhwch took a sword and cut off the heads of the traitors. Raising them in his bloody fist, he shouted, "Traitors die!"

The Ettins who were not his own men shuddered and looked fearfully at one another. Culhwch spat to the side and then he used Borag and Culloch's heads to decorate two pikes. After driving the pikes into the ground outside the entrance of his tent, he marched back inside. Macha had yet to leave the bed. She looked at him, at his blood-covered hands, and then she smiled. "You are strong. I chose well."

He strode over to her. Then, he grasped her by the arms and crushed her mouth with his own as his other head whispered in her ear, "Betray me, woman, and I will skin your flesh from your body as you scream."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Yes, I know the Giants are horrid. They just refuse to be not nasty. Next chapter will make up for it, promise. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	20. Chapter Twenty: War Council

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty: War Council

19 Greenroof 1014

"Aunt Alambiel," came the furtive whisper. Alambiel turned her head, burying deeper into the pillows, as she tried to get away from the persistent little voice. Then something poked her shoulder. "Aunt Alambiel. Get up. You said we could go play on the beach this morn."

She mumbled something that even she didn't understand as she went the monumental effort of turning her head and prying open an eyelid. A grinning face greeted her. "S'lon?"

A child's giggle answered the query. Alambiel covered her eye with a hand and breathed out slowly. She had rather hoped that Alithia's son would be too worn out to get up early for the fourth day in the row and, of course, he wasn't.

Small fingers pried at her own as the colt laughed. "Aunt Alambiel, you promised. Get up, lazy."

"Lazy?" she returned as she lowered her hand and offered him a fierce scowl. "And, where did you learn such an insult?"

"Uncle" was his simple reply. He beamed at her. "Are we gonna play now, Aunt Alambiel?"

"As soon as I dress. Go wait in the sitting room and make sure you close the door behind you." She waited until the colt had scampered off and pulled the door firmly shut before she sagged back into the pillows. "Lazy? Oreius, you are in so much trouble when you get home." Knowing the colt would come bursting again if she lingered too long, Alambiel finally abandoned the bed. Changing into one of her plainer gowns (she was taking full advantage of Leeta's absence), she had barely begun brushing her hair when Solon burst back into the room. He grinned at her, prancing in place, as he clapped his hands with childish glee. "Now, Aunt Alambiel? Now?"

With only a fleeting glance in the mirror, she grinned at him. "Now."

The colt cheered and she laughed as she followed him through the Cair and on down into the courtyard. They paused for a moment at the little hill leading down to the beach and Alambiel observed the still-dark skies. The colt had gotten her up at fourth hour. What was it about fourth hour that made it so attractive to the Centaurs she knew? Big and small. She glanced down at the colt. "Well, young sir, are you quite pleased to have roused me before the sun?"

His grin was adorable as he nodded. At a little over four years old, the colt had some schooling to attend during the morn but those classes were generally held after the adults had had time to wake up and break their fast. Solon gazed up at her with an earnest expression. "Da says it's best to gallop before breakfast because then you're so hungry you'll eat everything and Mama won't be iritatable."

She hid a smile at his slaughter of the word even as she propped her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

He nodded. "Uncle said so too and it keeps you from being grouchy 'cause you're lazy."

 _'_ _Uncle' is so doomed when I get my hands on him again._ Alambiel grinned at the thought of how she could punish 'Uncle' then she gave a little laugh. "Well then, what do you wish to play?"

"Tig!"

She should have known. Tig was Solon's favorite game. "I'm it!"

Solon reared up, already shouting child-approved jeers about her lack of speed (something else she could thank 'Uncle' and 'Da' for, no doubt), and then he took off down the beach. Alambiel counted to five and then she raced after him. She caught him after a decent run. Solon whooped and let out his best war cry as he chased her down the beach and toward the docks. She was careful to keep her pace just fast enough to make it challenge but not enough to make it unfair. As the sun finally began to peek over the horizon, they had both slowed significantly. Judging by the colt's heaving sides, the current round of tig would be their last. Alambiel slowed slightly and Solon crashed into her legs, nearly knocking her over as his arms went around her knees, and he let out the exultant cry, "I got you!"

Laughing softly, Alambiel finally untangled herself and then took one of Solon's hands in hers as they resumed walking. She needed him to cool down and calm down before she took him back to the Cair.

"Aunt Alambiel?"

"Yes, dear?"

Solon looked up at her with a suddenly solemn light in his eyes. "Mama's sick again. Da said I have to take care of her while he's away." He paused then asked in a scared, little voice, "Will Da hate me if Mama dies?"

Alambiel stopped in her tracks and crouched down so they were nose-to-nose as she held both his hands in hers. "Now you listen to me, Solon son of Ardon. Your mama is not going to die. She told you why she's sick, didn't she?"

He gave a tiny nod but his chin was beginning to quiver as he whispered, "She said I'm going to have a new brother or sister after Christmas. But, Auntie, Sunstone said his cousin's mama died when she was going to have a foal and Mama's sick all the time and-" He stopped, sniffling, and then added softly, "Da will hate me if Mama dies."

"No, oh, no, sweetheart." Alambiel pulled the colt into a hug and pressed a kiss to his hair. Solon only called her 'Auntie' when he was truly upset or frightened. "No, Solon, even if something happened to your mama, your da would never ever hate you. He loves you. He told you to look out for your mama because he knows she needs you to be a very good colt, which is why you wake me up at fourth hour and we let your mama rest." Leaning back, she cupped the little colt's face between her hands. "Now, no more tears and no fretting. Your mama is going to be perfectly all right and if Sunstone keeps talking about things he doesn't know, you can bring him to meet me and then I shall talk to _his_ mama."

That won her a little grin. "And, I promise I shall personally check on your mama while you're at school. Just to prove I know what I'm talking about." She kissed his forehead and then stood up, taking his hand again. "Now, what shall we have for breakfast? And, do you want to dine with just me or shall we invite the Queen Lucy too?"

The colt didn't answer; instead, he was looking out to sea. "Look, King Edmund and Queen Susan are back!"

Alambiel followed his gaze. The Splendor Hyaline with her distinctive white swan wings was, indeed, sailing into port. They were back early. She glanced down at Solon and then smiled. "Solon, would you go and tell Captain Cletus about the ship and ask him to wake Queen Lucy?"

He took off for the Cair at a gallop and already calling for Captain Cletus at the top of his lungs. Well, that was one way to do it. Alambiel picked up her skirts and raced for the docks, reaching the end just as the Splendor Hyaline put out her walkway. She didn't wait for anyone to come down. As soon as the walkway touched the dock, she printed up it and onto the Splendor Hyaline's deck. Edmund and Peridan were standing near the mast. Edmund glanced at her and then turned back to Peridan. "Go and rouse his little highness, if you would, Peridan."

"Of course, My King."

Alambiel joined Edmund as the other man headed below. "What went wrong?"

"Everything." The boy she had watched grow into a man over the last thirteen years suddenly seemed to deflate as he leaned back against the mast and ran a hand through his dark hair, causing it stand on end. "Rabadash wasn't going to take no for an answer so we had to flee in the night."

She pursed her lips but didn't say 'I told you so' (although it was awfully tempting). "And, do you think the Rabid Radish shall simply accept this rather blunt refusal of his offer?"

"I rather doubt he's the kind to accept humble pie. We'll need the troops on alert as a precaution." He glanced at her. "Any trouble while we were gone?"

"By comparison, no. Without comparison, still no."

Edmund made a face at her. However, whatever he was about to say was lost as Corin scampered on deck and suddenly let out a shout. "Look! Look! There's a Stag!"

Alambiel and Edmund both rushed to the edge of the gangplank. A magnificent Stag bounded down the dock toward them. "Chervy!" Alambiel called, "Chervy, what do you here? You are far from home."

The Stag stopped and bowed his head gracefully then he fixed his dark, liquid eyes on them. "And, you shall be far as well, Your Majesties. Anvard is under attack! Prince Rabadash rides upon her with two hundred horse!"

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Edmund rested his hands on the arms of his throne as he looked around the hastily assembled war council. How he wished he might lie down for an hour or two, but it was not to be. Of those missing, he felt the absence of Peter and Oreius the most keenly. Chervy had been unable to tell them anything else, saying only that a Human messenger from Archenland had come but was too weary to continue on and both Chervy and the Dwarf Duffle felt the message too important to wait for more information. Nevertheless, the most important fact remained untarnished and deadly. Rabadash was attacking Anvard and if Lune had been unable to raise most of his army, they would need Narnia's help.

"We cannot abandon Archenland to this threat, especially since we have caused it." He heard Susan's sharply drawn intake of breath and winced inside. He'd have to find a moment to speak to her about it later.

Mr. Tumnus was holding onto his horns again as his little cloven hooves beat out a staccato rhythm. "Oh, Your Majesties, forgive me yet I fear I can find no alternative than to mention the danger to the Gentle." His anxious brown gaze searched the room as he continued in a rush, "There was no doubt during our time in Tashbaan that the Crown Prince Rabadash has fixed his sights upon her majesty as his bride. He has led this attack on Anvard, no doubt, he had hoped to surprise us at the docks and carry off the Queen Susan." He swallowed hard as he tugged on his red scarf then added, "What if he has not been so rash as to fail to plan ahead?"

Lord Peridan nodded, his countenance grim, as he leaned forward in his chair. "Master Tumnus raises a valid concern, Your Majesties. The Gentle will remain in Cair Paravel, I assume, but who will protect the Gentle?"

Sallowpad flapped his wings and clacked his beak. "True words, true words. A snake in the nest is an unwelcome guest, as they say. But, nests before eggs, my lords and ladies, nests before eggs. Who will go to Anvard?"

Edmund raised his chin. "I shall. Peridan and Lieutenant Sefu shall accompany me."

"And I shall go too, Brother," Lucy piped up. "Corin, I'm sure, shall also accompany us. It would no doubt do his father's heart good to see him again and we've news to share with him after all, lest you forget."

Edmund's mind flew back to the boy he had dragged off the streets of Tashbaan, certain it was Corin playing a very naught trick on his elders, yet a very battered (and ridiculously triumphant and proud) Corin had appeared just as Mr. Tumnus was to fetch the boy from resting from the sunstroke. The boy who had overheard their plan had vanished, only Corin had failed to see the concern that every adult in their party (well, except maybe the Wolves) had over the vanishing imposter. Lucy and Kat had both stared at him when he told of the boy, but it was Kat's stare that made him want to squirm like he did when dragged in front of her for an ill-timed prank. He had a hunch as to what Lu was thinking but he dismissed it for now. Corin's double was hardly the most important matter at hand, not to mention the lad was probably still in Tashbaan, although he hoped the lad did not tell whoever his master was of their plans. Otherwise, they were liable to have the Calormene fleet making for Cair Paravel too. And, wouldn't that be a pretty mess to explain to Peter when he got home? "I have not forgot, Madam, but that is neither here nor there. Let us focus on the matter at hand." He considered the best strategy. "We shall take half of our troops and make for Anvard in an hour's time. The remaining troops shall be placed under the command of Captain Cletus."

Peridan spoke again, "And who shall have charge of the Gentle's protection?" He bowed his head politely in Susan's direction as he continued, "Forgive me for speaking as though you are not present, Your Majesty, but I find it difficult to express my concerns otherwise. Given the nature of your majesty's refusal, given that it was not even offered to the Prince's face (since that would have been disastrous and most unwise), and given the Prince's foul temperament, I greatly fear the Gentle's safety is questionable even within the walls of Cair Paravel herself. It would not be beyond either the Prince or his father to pay for someone to abduct her majesty and carry her away to Tashbaan to await Rabadash's return."

Mr. Tumnus nodded, looking very grave for a Faun, as he wrung his hands together. "Indeed, such an event would be disastrous. Even if the High King returned with the bulk of our army, we would not be able to take Tashbaan or rescue the Queen Susan by force. Our numbers simply are not great enough."

"Even if we breached the city, the Queen would likely be killed before we could reach her," Sallowpad added. The old Raven flapped his wings again and shifted about on Stonebrook's shoulder. "Now for the eggs, who keeps the Gentle safe when her siblings are off and away?"

"I shall," Kat's voice was confident as she interrupted. Her blue eyes were fierce with the determination that usually forewarned that she would break someone. "Anyone looking to abduct Susan would first have to go through me. One obvious solution is that not one visitor who was not in Narnia, specifically Cair Paravel, prior to your departure to Tashbaan shall be permitted near Susan without my escort. And, if anyone is stupid enough to try something, I shall send the dolt back to his master with a fly in his ear."

"Very well," Edmund said quickly, not wanting any arguments or protests. "Captain Cletus has command of the remaining troops. Princess Alambiel, as Princess Royal and sword master, I charge you to fulfill your duties and your oaths to Us by maintaining careful watch over the treasures We leave behind. Into your hands, We entrust the keep of the Cair and the safety of Our beloved Royal Sister, Queen Susan the Gentle. Guard them well in Our absence, Lady, and may Aslan and His Father see your efforts prove fruitful."

"As Princess Royal and sword master, in fulfillment of my duties and my oaths to the Four, rulers of Narnia, I, Alambiel, do accept your charge, O Just King."

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"Lucy! Hurry up!"

"We're hurrying, Ed." Clad in her new armor, Lucy slung quiver and bow over her shoulder and then her attention was back on Corin. "No, you mayn't ride one of the war chargers. Your pony shall keep up quite well, young sir, now mount up before the Just displays his temper."

Edmund snorted and turned away from the sight of Corin sticking out his bottom lip in a mutinous pout. Philip nudged his shoulder and he stroked the Horse's nose, drawing strength from his steady friend. He hated going to war without Peter by his side. Somehow it was always worse when one or both of the girls went too. But, he was going to do everything he could to keep Lucy off the front lines. If Susan had been going . . .

Well, it hardly mattered because she wasn't going. He felt a vague sense of unease creeping over him again as he recalled how shaken and despairing Su had seemed since they fled Tashbaan. He wished he had time to speak with her before leaving but after a tearful farewell outside the council room, she had all but fled into her quarters.

"It will be all right. Go and set the Rabid Radish down a peg or three."

He turned to see Kat standing behind him. "Take care of Susan. I'm worried about how she's handling all of this."

"I'll listen when she talks."

He nodded. "I haven't seen Thalia. I assumed you have the Princess Consort somewhere safe, right?"

Kat grinned. "Do not fret. Thalia is both safe and happy. She's gone visiting. You should go before Corin does something stupid to slow you all down."

A faint smile played across his lips. "Maybe I'll get to leave him at his home when this is over."

"You're inviting Murphy."

He smirked at the familiar warning and then he caught Kat up in a strong yet brief hug. "It's good to see you again, Kat."

"I think you've a touch of fever, How." Her eyes still twinkling with laughter, she nodded to the waiting soldiers. "They are ready. And, so are you. Go on now. Your campaign shall be swifter than Peter's."

He could only hope that they reached Anvard in time. Swinging up into the saddle, Edmund patted Philip on the neck. "Ready?"

"To carry you there and then back home again," the Horse promised.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! So, here's more behind the scenes of HHB drawn from Corin's account (although he didn't see fit to mention Kat ;) Naughty boy). Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	21. Chapter Twenty-One: Progress

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-One: Progress

19 Greenroof 1014

Peter wearily stripped off his tunic and undertunic then tugged off his boots and socks before he splashed into the icy waters of the mountain stream. He shivered and stamped his feet before he dove beneath the surface. Another successful ambush of the Giants. The thought should have cheered him but it gave as much comfort as the cold water he was half-drowning himself in. They had yet to break the Northern Giants' will.

He surfaced in a silent gasp as the cold water combined with the cool northern wind to turn him into a veritable icicle.

"Do you intend to drown today, My King?"

Peter gave a little laugh as he stood up and then splashed back to the shore where the General stood watching him. "It does seem rather like the water and the land are attempting to kill us as much as our enemy. However, I think I shall survive this encounter."

"Always an encouragement, Sire," Oreius acknowledged without even a twitch of the lips to testify to his humor as he tossed Peter a thick towel. He looked around the portion of stream Peter had chosen to use for his ablutions and murmured, "I would prefer it, however, if you brought your guard with you the next time you choose to test your mettle against the mountains' streams. No unnecessary risks."

Sitting on a fallen log, Peter scrubbed his hair with a corner of the towel. "Forgive me, Oreius, but I needed . . . I simply had to-" He stopped then admitted without looking at the Centaur, "I needed at least a few moments where I was no one more than Peter Pevensie and bringing my Tigers to stand watch during an impromptu bath wasn't going to permit that." He braced himself for the inevitable lecture but it didn't come.

Risking a glance at the General, he was surprised to see a faint smile turning up the corners of the Centaur's mouth. Oreius bowed his head slightly. "Alambiel has similar protests." He flicked his tail and then added, "I have come to see her point better now that her being guarded is more of an . . ." he seemed to hesitate on the word before finishing, "inconvenience."

"Oh?" His eyes widened slightly as he suddenly realized what inconvenience the Centaur meant, no doubt, the same problem he sometimes had when wanting to be alone with Thalia. "Oh. I see, yes, that is tricky sometimes." Peter cleared his throat and looked at the stream again even as he felt his cheeks and neck begin to burn with his own embarrassment. He cast his mind about for a slightly less personal topic and blurted out, "Do you feel easier knowing she's at the Cair?"

All right, maybe he _was_ as incompetent at changing the subject when he was embarrassed as Ed always claimed. The silence reigned so long that he finally risked a glance at Oreius. The Centaur was rubbing a finger along the neck of his tunic, no, along the length of chain for Kat's necklace. He answered softly, "During the days, yes. At night . . ." He stamped a hoof and allowed his words to trail off.

Peter gave a little nod. "I think I understand. It's a lot easier when you're too busy to think about it much." It was much easier when he wasn't lying alone in his hammock remembering how Thalia had giggled the two nights he had hung a hammock in the northern bower and persuaded her that they would both fit without being tossed to the ground or how soft and warm she'd felt when she finally slept in his arms those two nights.

"The Princess Consort is faring better?"

He jerked out of his memories, blushing again. "Oh, yes. Well, I think so. She hasn't been so sick that she hasn't been able to write again. I guess it was a passing illness, after all, Aslan be praised."

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Morrigan watched through a break in the trees as the fair-haired Son of Adam spoke to the dark horseman. She had discovered from Culloch that the dark General was the one who had killed Morfran. She would make sure he went into the pie still kicking what was left of his spindly horse legs. She had given her men special instruction regarding the Son of Adam. He was to be taken alive and unharmed.

Her men were creeping closer. They would be in the perfect position soon. As long as they did nothing to alert her prey. This war would end today.

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Oreius flicked his tail again as he walked closer to the stream. "Have you had news from the Just regarding his and your sister's journey?"

"Not yet, other than Edmund seriously regretting confining Corin's boundless energy to a space as small as the Splendor Hyaline."

"I see. Perhaps-" Oreius cut himself off as he caught sight of movement. "Arm yourself! Back to the camp!"

He unsheathed his swords just as two Harfang Giants burst from the trees, their passing tearing up the smaller saplings and breaking branches. Oreius reared up and shouted once more, "Fly, Peter, fly!"

But, his golden colt did not listen. Foolish, brave, stupid colt. Oreius barreled into one of the Giants, toppling him backward and slaying him with a vicious strike from his crossed blades. The Harfanger's comrade let out a coarse laugh and shouted gleefully, "Little king, little king, come to me. To Morrigan you go."

Oreius wheeled about to charge him as he bore down on his colt but another Giant entered the fray, blocking his path. The Giant's swinging club forced Oreius to jump out of the way and away from where Peter was desperately fighting two Giants without even the modest protection of a tunic. _Oh Aslan, do not let this be the end of my colt._ Oreius let out a war cry and sliced through the Harfanger's gut then as he dropped to one knee, blubbering pathetically as he clutched at the gaping wound across his fat belly, he reversed his strike and buried one of his swords up to the hilt in the Giant's thick neck.

The ground rumbled and then another Giant burst into view. However, this Giant was neither Harfanger nor Ettin nor any of the Northern Giants. Bramblebuffin caught one of the Harfangers and wrestled him away before the Giant could kick Peter as he finished off his opponent. Leaving the Harfanger to the Giant Buffin, Oreius cantered over to Peter as soon as he recovered his sword and took up a defensive position near the High King. He glanced over his shoulder at his golden colt, reassuring himself that there had been no permanent damage taken. The colt watched grim-faced and so pale even his lips appeared drained of blood as Bramblebuffin finished off the Harfanger.

A wave of fury slowly built up in Oreius as he escorted Peter back to camp. The Giants had been too careful. The fight hadn't lasted long but he had still seen that the Giants had been too careful of Peter as they attempted to grab him. He recalled the terrible plans Morfran and the Giantesses had had for his colts last autumn. Now, he feared the Giants had not yet released the idea of forcing Adam's blood to revive their own stock. He would not permit such a thing. He would end the colt's life himself before he allowed the Giants to have their way.

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"So, Morrigan, where is your prize? Where is the little king?" Culhwch laughed as he watched the Giantess' face grow dark and her hand whitened as her clutch on her spear became a choking one. "Tell us, Morrigan, where is your plan? You said wait but you did not. Foolish-" She didn't flinch when he hurled the name at her.

Instead, Morrigan turned her storm-filled eyes on him and sneered. "Hold your foolish tongue, Culhwch, if you can." She turned to the Ettin king who had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on her breast and shoved him over. "Wake, Grog! Wake! Bring me your greatest, your strongest warriors. We shall drive the Narnians back. We shall force them to drink the bitterness of defeat. Then they will be ours to do with as we will."

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The afternoon had grown late when the scouts brought word of a large force of Giants assembling on the north side of the canyons, some twenty leagues from where they had set up camp. Peter lunged into action, hardly waiting for Oreius to give the command. Slipping on his shield and buckling on his helmet as he ran from his tent, he barely noted that the army was mobilizing around him when he swung himself up onto Izar's back. Excitement churned in his veins. They were getting close. Maybe another month of pushing forward and he would be at the gates of Harfang herself. Forcing Borak to sign a peace treaty would do much to cow the other Giants. Even better if he also pinned Grog and his surviving chieftains. A few more battles and he would be home with his family, with Ed and the girls, and with his sweet Thalia . . .

Chaos reigned over the battlefield. Peter still maintained his seat on Izar's back but more than once he had fallen from the Unicorn's back and was only saved from a Giant's grasping fingers by the noble Beast's quick action and decidedly vicious attitude in battle. His nearly healed injuries had begun to burn with an old familiarity and in the back of his mind he could already hear the healers' fussing over him and trying to keep him from going to battle again. "Down!"

Peter leaned forward, nearly flattening himself against Izar's neck, the Unicorn's no longer pristine mane blinding him as a club whistled overhead so close that he felt it snag his tabard. The Unicorn whirled, hooves kicking and horn plunging. The Giant laughed. Peter straightened and plunged Rhindon deep into the Ettin's hand. He shouted a coarse oath and swatted at them. Izar let out a horrible horsey scream as they landed heavily. Peter heard the sound of crunching bone even as he was tossed some distance away from the Unicorn. He gasped for the air that had been knocked clean from his lungs and got to his hands and knees just in time to see another Ettin was dragging Izar away. The Unicorn's proud form was bloodied and covered in dirt as he dangled from the Giant's fist.

"No," Peter gasped. The Giant paid no heed to him, his odious laughter filling the air and drowning out even the sound of the warriors nearby. Peter struggled to get to his feet, dragging Rhindon along after him as he staggered after the Giant. "No," he breathed again.

It was too late. In his head, he knew it was too late to save Izar, to save the other Narnians being carried off by the Giants. Everything had gone horribly wrong. He needed to turn back. Peter kept putting one foot in front of another, following Izar's smudged form. He couldn't let the Giants turn the proud, brave, noble creature into a meal. By the Lion, he could not!

He tried to run but his legs refused to obey his commands. With every step, they trembled and shook to such an extent that he knew it was a miracle they had not given out already. Izar, the soldiers, his people needed him, and he'd led them to their graves.

"Peter!"

The call seemed to come from far off and he paid it no heed. He had to catch up to the Giants. Make them stop. That was why he'd come north, to stop the Giants. He had to stop them. He had to-

A large hand snagged the back of his tabard and yanked him to a halt. "Peter!" He tried to turn and swing Rhindon at the enemy keeping him from fulfilling his duty but his arm did not obey then his sword was snatched from his fingers. A moment later, he felt Rhindon's weight back in its sheath. Peter turned his head and was confronted with stern, dark eyes. Had they been set in a different, paler face, he would have thought they were Ed's. Ed. Concern trickled into the dark gaze. The voice came again. "The retreat has been sounded."

No. He shook his head and turned back to the Giants. His breath caught as he caught sight of a brown-haired Nymph being tossed between two Giants. Thalia. Oh Aslan, they had Thalia. Izar had stopped screaming. They had Thalia. He had to save her. He lurched forward, trying to run, but some Lion-forsaken enemy stopped him. Ironbound arms clapped around him. He couldn't break free. He had to get to Thalia.

"Peter. There is nothing we can do."

Thalia.

"It is not her, My King. It is not Thalia. We must leave."

He kept struggling. Thalia. She was screaming. Oh Aslan, she was screaming. He was spun about and then he felt something hard connecting with his jaw. The ground rushed up to meet him.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! O.o**


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two: Bruises and Shiners

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Bruises and Shiners

He watched with no small amount of anxiety warring against his sense of guilt over his earlier actions as the colt shifted about agitatedly, his brow furrowed and sweat coating his skin. His eyelids twitched as his eyes roved beneath the closed lids, but no relief was found in waking. Oreius folded his arms over his chest as he kept watch over the High King. He had not wakened when the healers checked him after the battle, but there was no guarantee that the colt had not suffered some hidden hurt.

Peter moaned then a hoarse whisper broke free, "No, oh Aslan, no. No."

Oreius stepped closer to the swaying hammock, ready to catch his colt should his night terrors send him tumbling. By the Lion, he wished he knew what torments had accompanied his golden colt into the realms of unconsciousness.

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 _Peter groaned. He strained again at the thick ropes pinning him down. The rough hemp chafed his skin and, after all his struggles, the bloodstained material savaged his bleeding wrists further._

 _Thick, odious, dull-witted laughter crashed over him, burning his ears, mocking him, mocking his pain. Peter bit back a cry of anguish when he heard the screams again. Not his screams. Oh Aslan, how he wished they were his screams. Anything would be better than this._

 _The great hall of Harfang was ablaze with light. The Giants' shadows cast grotesque caricatures upon the walls and some stretched across the stone floor to where Peter had been tied to a large wheel. Borak's thick voice called out, "Lift him! Lift the little king so he sees how we enjoy his spoils!"_

 _Peter screwed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see. Oh, Aslan forgive him, he didn't want to see. He heard them screaming, they called his name again and again but he couldn't fight his way free anymore. He couldn't save them. Oh Aslan, he didn't want to see!_

 _He felt the wheel vibrate beneath him as a Giant stomped over to him. Then, wood groaned and Peter let out an involuntary cry of pain as his weight shifted, yanking on his wrists and sending a shaft of pain through his shoulders._

 _"_ _Peter!"_

 _That voice. No, oh no. Her voice._

 _Unwilling yet unable to stop himself, Peter slowly raised his head. He blinked past the stinging sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes and blind him. His parched throat clenched and he wanted to scream in defiance as he met her gaze. Light green eyes, nut-brown hair, ivory skin. It was her. It was Thalia. His Flower stared back at him, dismay coupled with fear marring her beautiful features. "Peter!"_

 _He opened his mouth but only a croak emerged past his cracked lips. He squirmed in a desperate attempt to free himself as his frantic gaze swept over her, taking in her torn and muddied gown, the way her right arm was grotesquely twisted and dangled limply. He shook his head, trying again to cry her name, but only another croak escaped him._

 _Borak's horrid laughter beat against him as the Harfanger leaned forward, bracing one hand against his knee, and leered down at them. "See? See, little king, how we thank you for providing such tender morsels for our table?"_

 _Thalia blanched, her eyes turning frantically to him. Peter heard two other soft sobs and his heart clenched to see Lucy and Susan standing just to the left of her. Their fine gowns were also torn and muddied, their silky hair hanging in untended snarls, and horrid bruises splotching their faces and necks. Rough ropes had been tied about their necks, joining them to a single leash, and Peter belatedly realized such an atrocity also accosted Thalia's neck. His sisters' cheeks were tear-stained but they both held their heads high and no sobs escaped them. But, their eyes… Oh Aslan, Peter couldn't turn away from their eyes, which pierced him with looks that bespoke of desperate hope. Hope that something would happen. That somehow they would yet be saved._

 _But, he couldn't. Aslan forgive him, he couldn't get down. He couldn't save them. Hope suddenly stirred in his breast. Edmund. Edmund would save them._

 _A low voice crying out crushed that hope and viciously shoveled despair into its place. Peter craned his neck, ignoring the hot pain arcing through his strained muscles as he did so, unable to resist the compulsion to look and confirm that fearful dread. He caught sight of a Giantess sitting in the shadows, her arms wrapped around a struggling figure in her lap. He parted his lips, tasting blood as they cracked further, but his throat would not disgorge the words as he caught sight of black hair and pale skin. Edmund._

 _His brother was held fast in the Giantess' grip even as he kicked, hit, and bit anything he could reach. The Giantess only laughed. "Me like this one. He fights good."_

 _"_ _Give us a taste, ducks!" Another Giantess, this one short (by Giant standards) and quite stout with two heads, grasped Edmund by the arms and yanked him from her companion. She seemed utterly inured to his shout of pain as his shoulder audibly popped out of its socket. She kissed him roughly and Peter cringed inside as her second head suddenly licked the side of Edmund's head._

 _Then, his brother's dark eyes met his. There was no blame in them, no fault or condemnation. Nothing Peter deserved. Edmund must have come north to rescue him. Maybe the girls had followed him. They were all here because of him. It was all his fault. Oh Aslan, it was all his fault!_

 _He squirmed and thrashed despite the ropes holding him fast, despite the pain every move caused. He gladly accepted the pain. It hardly even scratched the surface of what he deserved to experience. He had to get free. Maybe the army was coming. Oreius would have escaped. He had before. Then, he could rally the army and come after them all. Maybe even now they were-_

 _Borak's odious laugh assaulted his ears again. "Little king! You wriggle like fish on a spear!" He waved his hand suddenly. "Cut him loose! He shall give us sport!"_

 _The ropes slackened so suddenly that Peter could not even begin to brace himself. He fell heavily onto the filthy stone floor. His arms shook, his back burned, and his legs trembled as he shoved himself up but he still made it to his feet. He looked at the girls. Then, he looked at Edmund and swiftly looked away again, unable to bear the sight of the Giantesses fighting over him and forcing him into-_

 _Edmund's voice broke over the Giants' laughter and crude calls, "Peter! Save them! Save them!"_

 _He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the girls, and then his shaky legs betrayed him. He fell heavily onto his hands and knees as his head swam and his stomach curled in on itself. He retched. The bile burned his throat._

 _The Giants just laughed and jeered. Then, Borak shouted, "I hunger! Prepare the pie!"_

 _Dread swept over him. Peter raised his head, his horrified gaze fixed on the large covered plate that was set before the cooking fire that had been built in one of the hall's fireplaces. Two younger Giants, their faces red with heat from the kitchens and strain of their burden, raised the iron cover. Peter could only stare in abject horror and despair as he realized a meat pie had been set out and he could see bits of Narnian armor framing the edges of the pie. Worse, the pie was yet uncovered by the crust._

 _"_ _Bring him closer!"_

 _Rough hands grasped him, dragging him forward until he could see past the steam cloud hovering over the meat pie. The unmistakable form of a Centaur stood stiffly in the center. Oreius. Peter gasped. The Centaur raised his bowed head and met his eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity then Oreius bowed. "I am sorry, My King. I have failed you."_

 _Peter shook his head. Yet, cruelly, the words to assuage the Centaur's misplaced guilt could not breach the barrier of his abused throat. He shook his head again. Then, he saw one of the Giants come forward, dragging on a rope. The girls!_

 _He whirled in time to see the Giant drag his sisters and wife close to the meat pie. The Giant reached out, his hands clawing at Susan. She screamed. There was a sickening crack and then her scream cut off sharply. Peter dropped to his knees, his hands outstretched. No! Oh, Aslan. Oh Aslan, please!_

 _Lucy was next. Then…then Thalia. The Giants' callous laughter crashed over him as they tossed their lifeless bodies into the meat pie. Then they shoved Oreius over so he fell heavily onto his side, his legs thrashing. A large Giantess, her bulk mostly covered by a billowing and stained apron, sprang forward with surprising speed as she spread the thick crust over top. Then the Giants clapped the cover on top again and shoved the entire plate into the cooking fire._

 _Peter heard Oreius scream. He smelled cooking flesh. Bile rose. He retched. The Giants just laughed. They acted as though the murders were nothing more than sport. He retched again._

 _Borak turned to him, a speculative light in his piggish eyes. "Why keep two when one will keep the women happy?"_

 _Peter tensed. Oh Aslan, not Edmund. He didn't think he could stand to see Edmund killed too. As heinous as the fate the Giants planned for one of them was, he wanted his little brother to survive so he might escape. Narnia needed him. Peter had failed everyone. Narnia needed a strong king. Edmund was much stronger than even his little brother realized._

 _He struggled to his feet again, the screams ripped from a proud warrior's throat finally cutting off as he did so, though the stench did not fade. The hall tilted nauseatingly and then rough hands grabbed his shoulders. They kept him from falling. He felt them pulling him toward something…_

 _Shock arced through him as he opened his eyes and realized he was lying in a pie tin. The Giants leered down at him. They laughed and he could hear Edmund yelling somewhere for him to wake up. Oh, how he wished he could wake up. He wished he could wake up. Borak's laughter drifted to him again as he crudely detailed what Edmund's new position would entail at Harfang court to the uproarious laughter of his slovenly courtiers. Borak. He had to kill Borak. Cut off the Giant threat at the head._

 _Peter struggled to leap up but hands caught at him again, shoving him back and holding him down. Ignoring the pain, he lashed out, striking with closed fists at the Giant attempting smother him with the heavy pie crust. The Giant grunted and moved back._

 _Then he heard another voice calling, "Peter, it is a dream. Wake. Wake, My King."_

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Oreius kept both hands on the colt's shoulders, grateful now that Peter's thrashings had finally begun to subside, and holding him steady in the hammock. "Peter. Wake, sire, it is but a night terror. You are not at fault."

His golden colt took a gasping breath and then his eyes opened, their blue depths wildly staring as he frantically looked about the tent. Oreius cautiously removed his hands and stepped back slightly. The High King blinked twice as he looked at him. Then, he licked his lips and rasped, "Oreius? Wh-where"

"We are in camp, My King. You are in your tent." Oreius offered him a cup of cool water and frowned slightly at how badly the colt's hands trembled when he clasped the cup and gulped the water as though he were about to perish from thirst. "It is not yet dawn on the second day since the battle. Have you any pain? The healers were concerned you might suffer from hidden wounds."

The colt's gaze darted warily around the tent. "N-no. Not hurt." He suddenly reached up to touch his swollen jaw and winced. "That hurt." His bewildered eyes turned back on Oreius and he suddenly looked far more like the foal Oreius had reluctantly trained for battle some fourteen years past as he whispered, "What happened? Did a Giant hit me?"

Guilt struck him and Oreius looked down at his hooves, a muscle in his cheek twitching. Gathering himself, he raised his head and met the colt's gaze. "No, My King. It was not a Giant who struck you. I deeply regret that it was I."

"You?"

Oreius cleared his throat. "Yes, High King. I regret I could see no other way to remove you safely from the battlefield. You were determined to chase after the Giants and I feared you would walk straight into your death or worse." He paused then added gruffly, "I will, of course, submit to whatever punishment you deem suitable for daring to strike you, Your Majesty."

Peter did not respond. Instead, his colt continued to poke at the purple bruise decorating his swollen jaw. He winced and Oreius flinched. From the moment he struck the colt, he had bitterly regretted the action. It was not honorable to strike at one who was not an enemy and it was worse to strike at those who unable to fight back. Peter had been half-mad with battle shock, it was true, but even when in possession of his full senses the colt was a Son of Adam and certainly no true match for a grown Centaur.

If any soldiers had witness it, what might they think? If they thought or feared their general was striking out against the High King… He flicked his tail, lashing his flanks, as he contemplated the dismal thought. Their already low spirits would sink further. Or, worse, they would begin to choose sides. Such chaos in the camp would weaken them severely and then how was Oreius to bring both his king and his men home to Narnia?

"Don't be an idiot, Kentauri. Anyone who knows you can see that the colt is your son. And, anyone who knows that knows that you would die before intentionally harmed him."

Oreius sidestepped, his gaze searching the tent for Alambiel as her voice echoed so clearly through his thoughts. He remembered the conversation. It had been while they were courting, after he and the colt had returned from the debacle in Telmar.

"Or-Oreius? My sis- My sisters, Eddie, oh Lion, Thalia…"

He shoved the memory away before it distracted him further and focused on the colt. A bleary and much bewildered gaze was fixed on him. Oreius stepped forward and carefully rested a hand on his shoulder. "Be at ease, Sire. Your siblings and wife are safe. They remain at Cair Paravel. Far from harm."

Peter nodded, still looking rather shaken. Oreius pressed against his shoulder until the colt was braced against the hammock's pillow again. "Rest, Sire. Things will be clearer come morn." He had barely finished speaking when the colt's eyes slid close and his breathing evened out. Oreius stayed in the tent, watching over his slumbering colt, unwilling to leave should the night terrors recapture him. He could only pray that Peter's sleep proved more restful this time.

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Peter's head felt heavy when he finally woke to a tent that was partially swallowed by darkness. He could hear the Fauns playing their panpipes, a soft, gentle tune that brought to mind images of Narnia in springtime, in the distance. He swallowed hard, faintly surprised when he didn't taste blood or feel as though his throat had been scratched raw, and slowly sat up. Babur grinned at him.

Peter got to his feet and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't fall on his face. Staggering about the tent, he splashed his face clean in tepid water, wincing when his fingers brushed over the left side of his jaw. Bruise was still there then. He hadn't dreamed that part, after all.

After changing into a fresh tunic, Peter ran his fingers through his hair and then scratched at the stubble on his jaw. But, he didn't take the time to shave for now. Instead, he glanced at Babur. "Whereshh Oreiushh?"

He winced at his slurred words. Maybe his jaw was more swollen than he realized…

Babur's green eyes seemed to glow with humor as he responded, "The General is in his tent. Do you want me to fetch him?"

"No, I t'ink itshh beshht I go shhee him." Peter grimaced and was suddenly quite glad that Edmund wasn't there to mock him. Sighing, he stepped out of his tent, blinking in the firelight blazing from several nearby campfires. A number of soldiers waved or bowed as he passed them. Peter nodded and offered his best attempt at a smile. It heartened him to see that the soldiers weren't disgusted at the sight of him, no matter how much he deserved it for his failing in the battlefield. He entered Oreius' tent and found the Centaur pouring over a map with a dark scowl sharpening the angular planes of his face. "Ishh it bad?"

The Centaur shifted on his hooves, but said nothing. He moved markers about on the map. "The Giants have retreated."

"Why?"

"It is a trap."

Peter swallowed hard. Of course, it was a trap. Their last encounter with the Giants certainly hadn't warranted a retreat on the Fell beings' part. His mind went again to that horrible battle and he swallowed back bile. He moved a little closer to the table. "How many loshht?"

"Thirty-seven taken, twenty-four dead, and forty-one injured, including your majesty." The Centaur's voice sounded cold as he recited the numbers that struck Peter to the core. The thirty-seven who had been captured were dead by now. Oh Aslan, how he had failed them. "The healers are releasing a number of those injured during the night ambush, including Captain Ardon. There are only a score of soldiers whose injuries are severe enough that we might need to consider sending them back to Narnia."

He still hadn't looked up. Peter couldn't help the flush of embarrassment that coursed over him as he recalled Oreius had been there when he was dreaming of the Giants and their abhominable plans for… Oreius must think him an idiot as well as a coward. "Oreiushh."

"My King, you should probably return to your tent and rest. I will send one of the healers to you."

"Yeshh, I jushht needed to shhay I'm shhorry. I shhould've kept my head."

"Battle shock can overtake the best warrior, Your Majesty." Oreius raised his head and fixed him with a stern look. "Do not castigate yourself over this fact. Remember your lessons. Learn from it and use it to better your reactions in the next skirmish."

Peter nodded. He considered going back to his tent, but then he stopped short. He frowned as he observed Oreius. The Centaur's left eye was swollen and bruised. "Oreiushh? What happened to your eye?"

The General looked at him and then scowled down at the map. "A mishap. It is of no concern."

"What happened? Giantshh?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Oreius sighed. "You were struggling in your sleep, Your Majesty. When I attempted to prevent you from injuring yourself by falling out of your hammock, you seemed to believe you were under attack."

Peter stared at him. "You mean… I'm shhorry, Oreiushh."

"It is of no consequence, My King."

Peter glanced again at his eye. It really was going to be a beauty of a shiner.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three: Rabadash

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Rabadash

Prince Rabadash was resplendent in his armor. It hugged his form and had the Queen Susan, that deceitful northern witch, seen him even she would have fallen to her knees and begged for the privilege of simply being included among his harem. Rabadash stroked his beard, curling the end about his fingers and a cruel half-smile pulled at his lips as he considered how she would be too awestruck to even consider flight or fight when he swept onto Cair Paravel's dock, plucked her from the ground, and galloped on horses too fleet even for the monstrous demons to keep pace with away to his new holding in Anvard. There he would ensure the Narnian Queen had no recourse but to agree to be his happy bride or he would let all the North see her shamed as she walked without her fine silks and velvets, without her glittering jewels and crown. Instead, she would be dressed in rags and her luscious black locks, though spun from the wheel of the gods, would be shorn and smeared with ash. His little smile twisted in delight at the cruel thought. Perhaps he would do so anyway as punishment for fleeing him. It would certainly break her spirit sooner. He wanted a fine jewel to display when she was not bearing him sons, not a spirited woman who actually dreamt of being his equal.

He raised the goblet to his lips and then sat up more fully among his cushions, gaining the attention of the Tarkaans. His eyes picked out two older warriors who dared to look at him with contempt (or so his slaves reported). His father, the Tisroc (may he live forever), had insisted that they be among his two hundred. Rabadash's upper lip curled in the slightest sneer, though it was yet hidden by his goblet. He would see that those two went into battle where the fighting was fiercest and then he would leave them to be surrounded and summarily struck down. He had no use for men who spied on him for his father or spoke more highly of those crown princes who had been before him.

Lowering the goblet from his mouth, Rabadash rose to his feet. "Hear me, O Tarkaans, tomorrow we shall tear Lune from his holding as the badger is routed from his burrow. Then on to Narnia where I shall pluck my northern bird from her nest and we shall deliver into the hands of the Tisroc (may he live forever) two priceless jewels. Next summer we shall return and gobble Narnia as that land deserves, slaying the demons or enslaving them to our wills."

One of the Tarkaans stirred suddenly. "O Prince Rabadash, doest thou know how fiercely the Narnian demons, may Tash curse them, fight when their loved ones are endangered?"

Rabadash sneered. "What do demons know of love? They cannot feel love. They would steal our very souls if they could but find a way to use their dark magics against Tash's chosen." He looked the other man over then sniffed contemptuously. "If you are such a coward, O Ninradash, flee back across the desert, flee back to your palace and your harem for if you will not wield your blade in service of the Tisroc (may he live forever), your place is not among warriors but among women!"

Ninradash's dark face flushed with anger and a martial light glinted in his dark eyes but Rabadash did not fear him. The man was too much a coward to risk killing another crown prince, especially when Rabadash ensured he had neither sponsor for such an act nor idiot slave to take the blame and the executioner's blade. But, still the man dared to contradict him. "O Prince Rabadash, though your heart burns with the hungry flames of war and desire, you have never seen the Narnians in battle. Not their tournaments as they put on in honor of your illustrious visit to their country, O Prince, but true battle. I have seen Narnians in battle. One Narnian, one of those creatures who are both man and horse, and his northern witch of a lover. Yet he slew a cockatrice for her sake during the Blood Games. So too did he slay a drake to save her from its bite. They escaped the Blood Games. And lived." Ninradash's eyes filled with a hidden terror as he shuddered. "Such demons are unnaturally loyal to those they profess to love, though they do not understand it as we do. Yet was it not the poet who said, 'even dogs may seem to love'?"

Rabadash's fingers tightened about his goblet, his hand shaking with the force of his rage to the point that wine splashed upon his skin. "Know, O Ninradash, that you have spent too much time with the poets and yet you have shown us your coward's belly." He hurled the goblet at the man who threw himself onto the ground to avoid it. Still seething, Rabadash whipped around to blister the men surrounding him with his glare. How dare they? By Tash, was he to forever be held back by such cowards? "O my lord tarkaans, have you no more courage than a whipped dog? Do you not serve me? I am Prince Rabadash, blessed of Tash, the greatest of the sons Tash gave to my father, the Tisroc (may he live forever), for which of my brothers who were crown princes ever came so near to handing my father, the Tisroc (may he live forever), the northern countries that worry at him though they are so little? Did I not slay a thousand southern rebels after they slew my brother and attempted to wrest themselves from beneath Calormen's boot? Do we not camp this night on northern soil? The north is ours! Next summer we shall approach Cair Paravel with the cleverness of Nasreddin and, like the trickster god, we shall be welcomed into their bosom only to drive our knife deep. But, Tash himself has blessed my sword and on the morrow we shall take Archenland!"

His contemptuous gaze landed on Ninradash, that coward, and he added, "I do not fear the unnatural demons inhabiting Narnia. I despise them. It is unnatural for such beasts to live, these animals who speak like men. Those we do not kill, the younglings who can be trained to behave properly, we shall put in menageries or sell. Telmar would welcome such diversions. The monstrous demons who are neither beast nor men, we shall put to work. Their unnatural strength shall build up the Calormene Empire to even greater heights. Or, we shall be entertained by their death throes in the blood games. Raise your heads, O Tarkaans, and remember Tash and all the gods and goddesses are with us. The goddess of death has turned her veiled gaze on the north and it shall be Archenland who suffers the unveiled curse of the goddess first. Then, Narnia shall fall for they spend their strength on a campaign against Giants even further north. They will not have time nor resources to spend on rescuing their neighbor despite their claims of friendship."

A thunderous cheer met his ears. Rabadash smirked even as he added the coward, Ninradash, to the plans he had for the tragic sacrifice of the two Tarkaans his father (may he live forever) so favored. Only after much feasting and drinking did Rabadash finally seek his bed. The common soldiers yet worked at fashioning the ram they shall take against Archenland's gate on the morrow but that was no concern of his. They knew the penalty for failing him.

Entering his fine silk tent, Rabadash divested himself of his armor and the layered tunics beneath. He laid down in the cushioned hammock and imagined how he would make Lune beg for his life. Perhaps he would blind the fat old king and then lead him by a leash into Tashbaan to be properly sacrificed in the Temple of Tash, thus proving Calormen's might over the little north country and how Tash had given Archenland into his hands. Rabadash's thoughts drifted suddenly to the talking beasts who had blighted Cair Paravel and then Tashbaan. He shuddered. There had been an Ass who brayed every time he spoke it seemed. The foul creature was even worse than the horses who talked. Why would such a useless, unworthy creature find anything to talk about and why did the Narnians listen to it? He shuddered again, suddenly imagining the terror of being trapped in the body of a beast with the mind of a man but no way to speak. By Tash, that would be too cruel. Even Nasreddin was not so cruel as to curse a prince to such a fate. A useless beggar perhaps, but not a prince.

Rabadash cursed softly and then he forced his mind back to plans he had in store for that beautiful, treacherous, unfaithful little bird. Queen Susan would learn to regret provoking him. She would also bear him many sons. His lips curled into a malicious smile. And, she would bring about the fall of her precious siblings come next summer.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four: Gentle Succor

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Gentle Succor

20 Greenroof 1014

Susan forced another smile as a passing Sheep bleated a friendly greeting. She could only hope it did not appear as brittle as it felt. She stepped off the path leading to the dye vats, which she had been intent upon inspecting, and took a little used path that would lead to the upper terraces of the gardens facing north. Branches tugged on the hem of her gown and her hair save when she passed the Trees who kindly lifted their low-hanging branches out of the way. She pressed her hands to her suddenly warm cheeks as shame flooded her in the face of kindness she most assuredly did not deserved. Gathering her skirts into her hands, Susan began to run, forgetting the decorum and tranquility she had always worked to project as the eldest queen, especially when she was the only one of her siblings in Cair Paravel. She had to get away.

The suffocating guilt and self-recrimination did not abate until she stopped short in one of the bowers. She was not alone. However, the occupant of the bower did not seem to notice her as she sat upon a bench, all her attention seemingly fixed on the easel before her. The leafy branches above swayed in the gentle summer breeze and set the dappling sunlight peeking through to dancing. The rings decorating the painter's left hand caught a bit of sunlight and gleamed as she moved her paints off the bench and onto a small table next to her. The invitation was implicit but still Susan hesitated. Out of all the counsel given, Kat's had been most strenuously against her acceptance of Prince Rabadash's invitation to come to Tashbaan. Oh Aslan, if only she had listened! None of this would be happening.

Kat did not look away from her painting yet her refusal to do so compelled Susan to move forward. Coming around the bench, she stopped to study the incomplete painting. There was the bluff painted and the faint outline of a Centaur standing atop it, his sword resting point first on the ground before him. Kat was painting Cair Paravel in the background, her white walls tinged with rose by the setting sun. Susan clasped her hands before her to keep from wringing them or crumpling her skirts. It took a moment for her to gather her composure but then she spoke in an almost normal tone, "What is this one?"

"Vigil."

She nodded even though Kat was not looking at her. Then, because she could not yet bring herself to invite the well-deserved incrimination, she added inanely, "It is of Oreius?"

"Indeed."

Susan fell silent again. Kat's paintings had become one of those most sought after among living Narnian artists after several of her paintings had been given to the Four and were promptly displayed quite prominently. In fact, Edmund's Christmas present last year had been Kat's painting of Peter and Thalia dancing on their wedding day. That work had gained several requests from visiting nobles. Kat had refused all. However, in her inexplicable ways, she had once presented King Lune with a portrait of his lady wife. Susan had been quite surprised to recognize Kat's signature tucked into the bottom corner of the portrait (only a capital 'A' lying within the center of a stylized forget-me-not) on her last visit to Anvard. The portrait showing the Archenlandish queen with both twins had apparently made its way to Anvard only a few months after Lune had confided to the royals that he wished he had a finished portrait of Zusa and their sons. The painter he had commissioned had been unable to finish the work because Zusa and the twins had only sat for him once and he had ruined Zusa's coloring. No one had ever asked Kat about it, though. Except perhaps Oreius.

"Does Oreius know?" What a foolish and absurd question to ask!

Yet Kat only smiled. "I prefer for the Kentauri to find out after I have finished. When I attempt to paint him when he knows about it, he's quite incorrigible."

"Oreius?"

Kat laughed. "No one ever believes me but it is true." She suddenly glanced up at her. "Are you going to take a seat or continue hovering?"

A flush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks and Susan gathered her skirts so she could sit on the bench next to Kat. The older woman kept painting and was humming an unfamiliar song under her breath. Susan listened for a while, the tune was a happy one and did much to ease her. Seizing the courage before it vanished again, Susan whispered, "I have made such a terrible mess of things, Kat."

"Have you?"

"Yes!" The cry burst past her lips in angry despair as she sprang back to her feet, nearly upsetting the table holding Kat's paints. But this she ignored in favor of blinking back the tears threatening to spill free even as they blinded her. "Yes. I accepted Rabadash's invitation despite the warnings. I thought I could-" She cut herself off abruptly and fumbled for a handkerchief.

Soft linen was pressed into her questing fingers and then Kat's soft question filled her ears, "What did you think you could do, Susan?"

She gave a little gasping sob even as she blotted away the blinding tears. Kat was turned away from the painting now and she no longer held the brush. She had not risen from the bench but merely watched Susan. Her gaze was at once sisterly and motherly and bade her speak her heart. Susan gave another little sob and then dropped to her knees beside the bench, uncaring for the fact that the grass might stain her silver-blue skirts, and then she placed her head in Kat's lap as her arms came up to hold her about the waist. The sobs shook her as she pressed her face into the soft white skirts that smelled of wild flowers and the sea. Her heart cringed away from the idea of confessing her foolhardy imaginings to one who had seen Rabadash's character so clearly, especially when she thought of how she had defended him and protested that she did not wish to judge him harshly without seeing how he is in his own home. Never mind that she had never before deigned to accept such an invitation from one of her suitors, yet she had been so certain…

Susan's sobs slowed slightly and she became aware of Kat's hands resting on her head and on her back. She hadn't spoken once, not even to scold. Instead, she seemed content to let her cry out all her tears. Susan did not look up but she finally forced the bitter words past her lips, "I thought I could secure a lasting peace for Narnia if I accepted Rabadash. I went to Tashbaan thinking he might not be a terrible husband based on how he had conducted himself in our presence here at Cair Paravel even if I did not love him. Yet, in Tashbaan, he showed his true colors and I still put off fleeing him."

"Why did you?"

Susan hiccupped then whispered ashamedly, "I didn't want to admit I was wrong. I didn't want to admit that spending the rest of my life with him would be torture. That I could never learn to love him and the way he acted, I swiftly began to loathe him. I thought I could sacrifice-"

She cut herself off again. One of Kat's hands continued stroking her hair though the other had stopped rubbing her back. "What? What did you think you could sacrifice, Susan?"

"Me," the confession came out in the faintest of whispers.

Kat's hands stopped moving entirely and then fell away from her. Had she not had her arms about the older woman's waist, she feared she would have stood and walked away from her in that moment. Yet, Susan still did not dare to look up into the condemning gaze she just knew was fixed upon her. A heavy silence filled the air for several minutes. Susan's tears began anew. And then, Kat spoke, "Tell me something, Susan, why do you see yourself as worth less than your siblings? Why do you view yourself as the most likely sacrifice?"

Susan looked up, startled, and met Kat's gaze. The blue eyes were not hard with condemnation but soft with sympathy and understanding thought there was a touch of frustration there too. Kat shook her head. "Susan, what makes you think that your siblings or Oreius or I or anyone else on the council would consent to you going as the sacrificial lamb to Calormen? Had any of us known such was your plan, I can tell you right now that we would have put a stop to it." She frowned. "I had feared such a plot was brewing but I had hoped you knew better. Calormen is not the dragon who must be kept from destroying the village by sacrificing a young maiden to him. Calormen is the dragon who would gobble up the maiden and the village."

"But, royalty must be willing to make sacrifices."

"Narnia is not so barbaric as to force arranged marriages, Susan. We are the country filled with people who marry for love."

Susan flushed. "I love no one. And, if peace could be attained with my hand in marriage, then I am willing to sacrifice my happiness to protect Narnia."

"Narnia doesn't need you to do that, Susan." Kat frowned again but then she placed both hands on Susan's shoulder, keeping her from fleeing. "Wait. Listen. You give so much of yourself, Susan, that I fear you forget at times that Narnia loves you for more than your beauty. You are the mother to your people and to your family and you have been so since the time you were in need of a mother yourself. You have already sacrificed so much. Narnia would not ask you to sacrifice more unnecessarily. Your brothers and sister would not ask it of you either. You had a fleeting taste of what love could be when you opened your heart for Markus. He certainly would not approve of you sacrificing yourself to any man who would only look at you as a pretty bauble."

She flinched at the mention of Markus. That was almost five years ago and she had not met any man among her suitors who displayed Markus' qualities. She looked away from Kat, unable to look her in the eyes any longer. "I do not think any but my siblings would truly mourn such a fate."

"Oreius and I don't have any children." The abrupt change in conversation caused Susan to look back at Kat who was watching with a sudden intensity in her gaze. "We lost one and I've come to suspect that I am possibly barren now. However, Oreius has four children, two colts and two fillies. They are his as assuredly as if they were Centaur and born of his wife. They have been his since Beruna. It is true he spends the most energy on the colts but that is because all three are in the army. Oreius' greatest concern has always been how to protect his fillies from harm, be it at the hand of an enemy or a suitor. He feels more strongly about the unacceptable suitors I assure you. If you think he would permit you to sacrifice yourself in any situation where there was another way, you do him an injustice. Calormen and Narnia are technically at peace. We have never officially been at war with each other, the cost of battle is too great for the Tisroc (may his nose fall off) to risk an official campaign or bring his full strength against us. Every skirmish has been with his 'uncontrollable' or 'banished' forces and sometimes sons. I have no doubt that the Tisroc will only claim Rabadash had his blessing in this attack on Anvard if Rabadash wins completely. He has enough sons left that he can lose another crown prince. Indeed, I have information indicating that he has sent a few of his more hot-blooded sons into battles in hopes of killing them off before they decide to kill _him_ off. The Rabid Radish is certainly hot-blooded and impetuous." Kat shook her head a little, now a soft, sorrowful smile curving her lips. "Narnia's treaties with Calromen yet stand firm and despite such antics and propaganda put about by so many of our Calormene visitors, I do not believe they are in danger of being tossed aside completely. The Tisroc is too shrewd, blister him. But, if you were to sacrifice yourself to them, you would not tip the scales in Narnia's favor but Calormen's."

Susan could think of nothing to say. Instead, the thought of Oreius who was certainly a father to her brothers considering her a daughter as well as Lucy who certainly seemed more in line with Oreius' favor as she did not shy away from battle the way Susan did had overwhelmed her ability to speak. She looked at Kat who was far stronger than she. Yet, she knew Kat possessed a very tender heart. And, if the circumstances of her life had not whittled away so much of the softness she only displayed when with people she trusted or with children, she would have been more like Thalia or perhaps even Susan herself. Though, she seemed more warlike than either of them. And…she never let herself grieve in public.

"I doubt you and the General approve of me one whit. I am the best archer in Narnia yet I cannot bear to ride to war when there is any way to avoid it. I am a coward who hides behind paints and silks. I am-"

"Rather melancholy and self-pitying today."

The words had been spoken with sardonic humor as opposed to rancor but still they made Susan flush with new shame. She looked up to see Kat still watched her. The older woman brushed back a lock of gold and white hair then she sighed. "Susan, if anyone understands what it is like to not wish to fight, it is me. I enjoy sparring with Oreius but battle does not give me joy. If the act of killing ever gave me joy, I would set aside my weapons and strive to never touch them again because I would have become the very same monster I have fought in the past. The act of killing does not thrill Oreius or your brothers. It is an unpleasant necessity of their duties as warrior. Aslan called you to be the Gentle. Though Narnians respect your skill with the bow by calling you the Archer Queen, we also understand that you are first and foremost the Gentle. Aslan does not despise the gentle. Indeed, He blesses them. Can you imagine how terrible our world would be without those who are gentle? Where would warriors find succor? Where would we find a safe place to rest and recuperate after battles? Where would we find homes if there is none who can be gentle and see to such things? Where would we find the strength to fight if we did not have the gentle to protect from the harshness of the darkness in the world? Aslan created our world as one where both gentleness and a fighting spirit have their place. You are valued and you are loved because of your gentleness. Cair Paravel is a home for so many because you have helped to make it so. Do not disparage the importance of your gift."

"But, Kat-"

"You've spent too much time listening to Rabadash's poisoned darts about your proper place." Kat gave her a hard look. "And, you forget that your guards report to me."

"They usually don't."

A soft laugh answered her. "Actually, the Queens' guard typically reports to me. I take care of it all."

She hadn't realized that Kat's hand in vetting guards reached beyond that but then again her husband trusted her judgment. He respected Kat and expected her to do what was best. Susan sat there. "No one would give me that sort of trust."

"I didn't think you would want to keep track of the Queens' guard."

"Kat."

Kat laughed. "I'm sorry, Susan. I couldn't resist. But tell me would Rabadash trust you with his secrets? Would he trust you with his regrets? Would he ever value you for all of you or just what you can give him?"

Susan looked down. "A trinket to be taken off the shelf only when he had a need to display me."

Kat's voice softened as she asked, "Why would you be willing to tolerate such a fate?"

"I thought- I thought it was something I could do if it protected my family, my country, my people. I wanted to do what was best for Narnia. It is not always what is best for her rulers after all." Susan paused, struggling to describe how she felt. "I am so sick at heart. I'm so sick at heart, Kat. I went to Calormen hoping to find peace for my country and I bring home war. Our forces are divided as it is and now Edmund and Lucy go to battle with less strength than they should have behind them and Lune who has been such a dear friend is also endangered. I do not know how to forgive myself, Kat. I have made such a mess of things. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Did you ever seek Aslan's guidance?" Kat interrupted.

Susan blanched, her gaze fixed on Kat's crumpled white skirts. She had considered it but then she had preoccupied herself with various things that had to be done and with keeping Corin from getting into too much mischief. She had put it off. "I- I never hear Him answer."

"Sometimes there is only the answer of a sense of peace or at the very least an absence of a check in our spirits. Aslan speaks to us but we must be willing to listen and to hear Him or we will miss that still, small voice."

"I have never considered Aslan's voice to be still and small."

Kat laughed softly. "No, we never expect it yet that is how He speaks most of the time. Unless of course we need to hear His roar. He speaks to us, Susan. He hears us. And, despite all of our failings and the times when we run ahead with our own plans instead of waiting on Him, He yet loves us, yet protects us, yet preserves us, and yet listens to us. We do not deserve it but that is who He is. He will not turn away from us. He has promised to be with us even when we cannot see Him."

Susan sighed and then allowed Kat to pull her up onto the bench. They sat side by side, heads bowed and hands clasped, as Susan considered her words. "Do you think Edmund will forgive me?"

"Yes. He'll probably give you a list of why your plan wouldn't have worked but he'll forgive you. I think out of your siblings, Edmund understands the urge to sacrifice best."

Susan nodded then she hugged Kat tightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Kat pulled back and gave her a little teasing smirk. "Next time you get it in your head that you need to sacrifice your happiness on the altar of diplomacy, check with me and Edmund first so we have time to talk you out of it, all right?"

She smiled and gave a teary laugh. "I will try. But, I will no longer be accepting suitors. I am not to be trusted in that arena."

"One day you might change your mind, Susan."

A little shake of her head was the only answer she gave as she rose and smoothed her hopelessly crushed skirts. "Would you care to have a private dinner, Kat? I'd like to be with family while we wait for word."

Kat smiled. "I'd be delighted. It will keep me from being lectured by Stonebrook after I hit the obnoxious creature serving as ambassador from the Lone Islands."

Susan laughed again, not able to tell if Kat were serious or not and not really caring. Instead, she wiped her eyes again with the borrowed handkerchief and then she swiftly walked from the bower back to the palace and into the sanctuary of her own chambers. She met no one on her walk and somehow she knew Kat had been responsible. She would have to thank her again at dinner.

Going over to her jewelry box, Susan drew out a small book that she had left off reading shortly after Rabadash arrived in their country. Markus' handwriting leapt out at her when she opened it. Closing it again, Susan withdrew its companion and then she kicked off her shoes and settled herself in the middle of her bed. Then opening both books, she began to drink in the wisdom written by a former sorcerer and by a prophet of Aslan. "Aslan, forgive me my foolish pride."

There was no audible answer but as Susan read she felt a distinct sense of peace settle over her. She took the first deep breath she had in what felt like ages. "Thank You."

She thought she heard a Lion's purr.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five: Battle for Anvard

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Battle for Anvard

"O My Master, look! Look to the mountains!"

Rabadash scowled at the slave next to his stirrup and considered whipping the man but then Tarkaan Anradin with his crimson beard bristling wheeled his charger about and stared. Reluctantly, Rabadash followed his gaze. There on the rise were the figures of men on horseback charging them, beasts charged also, and blotting out the sky were no less than six Giants.

Yet there was no fear in Rabadash's heart. His veins burned with the hot ire of the glorious Tash. This was to be a victory and if Edmund thought he could save the day, he was wrong. Yanking on the reins, he ignored his horse's squeal and instead unsheathed his scimitar, admiring the way the late afternoon sun painted the blade red in anticipation of battle. "Mount up! Mount up, you dogs! Kill the barbarians!"

His men who had been ready to flood Anvard turned on their heels and sprinted for their horses. Yet, only a hundred made their post. Those wretched beasts, the Big Cats, were in their camp, terrifying the horses causing them to stamp and rear or tear free and flee. He cursed and raged, his own mount shying back several steps until he yanked hard on its reins. Rabadash watched as the line formed on either side of him and then he pointed his scimitar at the Narnians. "Charge!"

In the distance, he heard the cry, "For Aslan!"

His lips twisted in a sneer. He would show Edmund that his pathetic demon Lion would not be able to save him this day. All his promises to his father that he would not spill Edmund's blood vanished. If he slew one of Narnia's king today, who would oppose him when he rode into Cair Paravel? He could sit and wait after slaying the unnatural tree demon the High King had taken as wife and if Peter survived the Northern Giants, Rabadash would be there waiting with a most pointed welcome. No need to wait until next summer if he slew Edmund here and now.

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Edmund's arms burned with the familiar strain of wielding his twin swords. He ducked beneath a Calormene's swing and buried his secondary sword in the man's gut. Would that he had Peter at his back.

He could see Rabadash only feet away. "There, Philip."

The faithful Horse ploughed further into the melee but then he reared, nearly costing Edmund his seat. He caught a glimpse of the two Calormene soldiers falling beneath Philip's hooves. The press of bodies surged and he caught sight of Rabadash being pushed away. The crown prince's cruelly handsome face had lost its beauty as it was twisted with hatred. Edmund read the message in the man's dark eyes easily. Without another thought, he kicked his feet free of the stirrups and then leapt off Philip's back.

All around him was fighting. The Calormenes were torn between lust for battle and fear of the Narnians. He heard the horns of Anvard sound. Lune must have joined the battle. A large Calormene came at him. Edmund ducked under the scimitar, twirling as he did so and slicing through the man's hamstring. The man fell with a scream.

The ground shook beneath his feet and he knew one of the Giants had fallen. No way to know if it were fatal or not. The Calormenes were beginning to lose their courage now. Edmund charged one of the Tarkaans, recognizing him as one of Rabadash's favorites, Corradin. He raised Shafhelm, the silver blade now dark with blood, and slashed. Corradin's headless corpse collapsed to the ground.

More of the Calormenes began to lose their courage, casting down weapons and fleeing. But, there were still soldiers with more mettle. Edmund shouted again, "For Aslan!" All around him soldiers took up the cry.

Two soldiers fled from him. He could see Rabadash again. Edmund turned slightly so he could meet him. Then a large Tarkaan with a crimson beard stepped in front of him. The man's cruel eyes narrowed as they fixed on him. Edmund raised his swords in silent challenge.

The Tarkaan charged. Edmund caught his scimitar between the crux of his twin swords. He shoved up and forward. The Tarkaan sidestepped and Edmund was hard-pressed to block his next strike. He felt the impact of the blade hitting his mail even as he hastily deflected the scimitar's tip from piercing him and he was certain he saw strips of red tabard fall to the trampled ground. The Tarkaan's crimson beard split in a mocking grin.

Edmund rammed his forehead into the other man's nose and grinning mouth. The Tarkaan choked on an inarticulate cry of rage and pain as he stepped back. One gloved hand going up to where blood and even some teeth now decorated the Tarkaan's dyed beard. His dark eyes burned with malice and he threw himself forward. Edmund batted his blade aside and drove his own into the man's throat.

He let the Tarkaan fall and once more turned his attention to Rabadash. That blighted pest was not far. Edmund raced toward him then he faltered as a dizzying blow caught the back of his helmet. He fell, seeing black specks dance across his vision. He rolled onto his side, bring Shafhelm up in defense but his attacker only staggered back two steps then his sword fell from his limp fingers and he collapsed with an arrow's bright red fletching sticking out from where his left eye had been. Lucy's handiwork.

Rolling back over and ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to send him to the ground again, Edmund got back to his feet. One of the Calormenes before him threw his sword down, raising both hands in the universal sign of surrender. Edmund swept past him. Where was Rabadash?

"Dog!"

He heard Romulus and Remus snarl at the shouted insult and then a man screamed. He glanced to his right. The Wolves had tackled a man about to skewer Lune. He kept going. Then, Rabadash and another Tarkaan, Chlamash, leapt in front of him. If they had attacked him together, they might had him but they clearly had never had Oreius as a teacher. Rabadash, his rank giving him priority, surged forward. "Feel the wrath of Tash!"

Edmund rolled his eyes. Pompous idiot. "You're all talk," he panted in return. An ugly look appeared on the prince's face and then he charged.

They went at it hammer and tongs. Every blow was answered with one as furious as the last. Edmund did not give himself time to think. His secondary sword was knocked aside but he did not need it. Instead, he merely shifted both hands to Shafhelm, allowing himself to commit even more strength to the ringing blows he rained on Rabadash. The prince stumbled back and then he jumped up onto a mounting block. Edmund cursed under his breath as he fended off the Calormene prince's shower of blows. Then he spied two arrows striking the wall near Rabadash's head. He struck at Rabadash's feet, causing him to jump up a little, but then immediately had to defend himself from Rabadash's answering strike. The crowd of fighters near the wall jostled him and he narrowly avoided Rabadash's scimitar. More arrows struck the wall. Rabadash raised his scimitar high and shouted, "The bolt of Tash falls from above."

Edmund saw him jump sideways but he did not see him land. Only training saved him. Edmund whirled to catch the descending sword moments before it would have severed his sword arm or at least broken his shoulder, the results would have been equally disastrous. He met Chlamash's determined gaze and grunted as he shoved the bigger man back. His arms ached now but he did not give away before the Calormene.

He caught sight of soldiers standing about and he faintly realized that the sound of fighting had died down to the point that he could no longer hear it over the sounds of his own panting breaths, his pounding heart, and the clashing swords. He met Chlamash's gaze once more and knew the Tarkaan was beginning to comprehend the same difference. Then the Tarkaan slipped and Edmund pressed his advantage. He slipped Shafhelm beneath the Tarkaan's scimitar and caught it with Shafhelm's tip biting into Chlamash's gloved hand.

The Tarkaan was gasping now. Then his dark eyes darted a glance around them before returning to Edmund's face. He stepped back, releasing his grip on his sword and allowing it to fall to the ground between them. "I surrender, barbarian."

Trust a Calormene to find a way to insult his captor. Edmund smirked a little. He lowered Shafhelm. "Narnia accepts your surrender, Tarkaan."

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Laughter filled his ears. Horrid, stupid, mocking laughter. Tash take them all! Rabadash kicked his feet ineffectively, his chain shirt growing warm against his nose as it caught his breaths. Cursed barbarians! Cursed! How dare they laugh at him, the scion of Tash? None in Calormen would dare to do so. They quaked and trembled in face of his great wrath.

He saw Edmund laughing at him. His dark eyes were glittering with laughter. How dare he? Rabadash struggled more but still his cursed shirt would not slide off the hook. Helpless to express his fury, he raised his head as best he could and shouted, "Let me down, Edmund! Let me down and fight me like a king and a man; or if you are too great a coward to do that, kill me at once."

There. The laughter had died in Edmund's pale face as his lips pressed together. Rabadash almost smiled. He would have his satisfaction.

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Edmund stared up at the arrogant fool. The one who had dared to attack in peacetime. The one who had attempted to abduct Susan. The one who would have made his sister so miserable as to yearn for death if he had ever gotten his filthy hands on her. At the memory of Susan's misery on their flight back to the safety of Cair Paravel and her tears, Edmund's hand tightened on Shafhelm's hilt. "Certainly!"

He drew breath to order the men to take the prince down so they might have a proper duel but then King Lune interrupted, "By your Majesty's good leave, not so."

Edmund checked his hot retort as diplomacy reasserted itself. His fingers still itched to go for Rabadash's throat even as Lune rebuffed and rebuked the Calormene prince. The sight of Rabadash shouting threats and curses even as angry tears stained his dark cheeks did not soothe his temper.

Then he was distracted by the sight of Corin (who certainly should not have reached them before even Lucy and the archers) running toward them and dragging another boy by the hand. Edmund stared into the face of a bewildered Corin look-a-like. It seemed he truly had not been a Calormene spy nor was Lucy's guess far off. In fact, Edmund suspected that Anvard was about to be in uproar. Hopefully, it would be more joyous than resentful.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, so this chapter is the expanded version of the battle summarized by the Hermit in HHB with a few flourishes of my own design and the dialogue between Rabadash and Edmund as well as Lune's only line have been lifted directly from Lewis' description of the scene. As Lewis said it would be positively no use to describe this battle through Shasta's eyes since he had no idea what he was doing, so I went to the guys who definitely knew what was going on. ;) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six: Accomodations

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Accommodations

27 Greenroof 1014

Edmund bit back a smile as he watched the donkey pacing around the well-guarded stall. Instead, he forced himself to bow his head politely as he intoned, "Good morn, Prince Rabadash."

The donkey let out a deafening bray and then kicked at the stall walls. He was still kicking when Edmund left the stables. Edmund shook his head, feeling just a bit of pity for the chap. Nothing quite so humiliating as being turned into a literal ass and, as Lucy had pointed out last night, it was probably doubly so not to mention terrifying for Rabadash considering his people's almost chronic fear of Narnians.

Remus pelted over to him. "Alpha! Alpha! How come Prince Rabadash can't talk?"

"Because Aslan took his speech away."

The Wolf's eyes widened in alarm. No Talking Beast would ever wish to suffer such a fate. "Oh. Philip said that so long as that ass is in the stable, he's quite glad he can't speak although he certainly lives up to his name by braying all day and night and kicking and biting." The Wolf paused then tilted his head to the side. "What does that mean, Alpha?"

"It means Philip doesn't want to share the stable with Rabadash." Edmund glanced up at the sound of rustling skirts, wondering if perhaps Lu had decided to come looking for him. His steps slowed as he caught a glimpse of a very pretty Archenlandish lady, no doubt a daughter of the court judging by her fine gown, though she was half-turned away from him and was mostly shrouded by shadows. He saw a book clutched in one slender hand and curls of rich brown cascading over her shoulder. She looked fairly short. No taller than his chest, maybe a little shorter.

She swept out of the hall, going into one of the rooms, and Edmund realized Remus was talking again. "No, you may not chase the ass. Philip's good humor won't improve enough to counter my bad humor."

Shamed for the moment, Remus fell silent save for his panting breaths as he followed Edmund into the library. Edmund immediately began talking the moment he entered, "Pray forgive me my tardiness, Sister, Lune. I went to speak with Philip and found the moment opportune for seeing how our most challenged guest was finding his quarters. He's declared them all the rage."

Kat would have appreciated that joke but Edmund did not even notice his sister's reaction though he heard King Lune's good-natured belly laugh fill the room. Instead, his gaze fixed on the dark-haired girl standing next to Corin. The boy stepped forward and Edmund observed his nervous stutter (Cor, not Corin, then) but there was a glint of determination in the young boy's blue eyes as he stepped in front of the Calormene girl. "K-king Edmund, I know you don't much like Calormenes right now. And, that's all well and good for the likes of the prince and his men but Aravis is a lady of the court now. I don't think you know but she's a Tarkheena. But you can't make her a slave or anything like that as punishment for the attack on Anvard. King Lune- I mean, Father's said she may live here now and she's a lady of the court. Aravis isn't responsible for the attack on Anvard, King Edmund. She's the one who told me about Prince Rabadash's plan so I could tell you or tell Chervy who told you. In any case, she's as much a hero as anyone and she's seen Aslan. Before He appeared here, I mean. She's seen Him even more than I have and Aslan didn't hold her to blame for Rabadash's actions either. And, you…" The boy trailed off, looking a little uncertain, but then his jaw firmed and he stepped a little closer to Edmund, staring up at him with more defiance than he had expected from the soft-spoken and rather shy boy. "You just can't take her away or do anything mean to her. She's protected."

Amusement warred with his impressed astonishment at Cor's speech. Edmund's lips twitched then he raised his eyes to meet the proud gaze of Lune and the warning look gleaming in Lucy's eyes. Right, right, he really couldn't laugh at such a brave speech. Instead, Edmund took a step back and then swept his most courtly bow. "Thou art most correct, Prince Cor. The Lady Aravis is not at fault for her birth, her station, or her countrymen's ill-advised plots. Indeed, let Us assure thee that thy friend is as welcome in the court of Cair Paravel as she is here in Anvard."

Cor seemed almost abashed now as he offered an awkward bow. "I, err, we thank you. Your majesty," he added belatedly.

Lucy stepped forward. "Now let's get down to the business at hand. I thought the Lady Aravis would be able to inform us of what she knows considering those Calormenes who surrendered and where best to send the, well, to send the boat carrying Prince Rabadash."

Edmund glanced again at Cor and allowed the barest hint of a smile to escape. Unlike his irascible brother, the restored Crown Prince had not once threatened to box him. It was a very nice change of pace. Though, he did wonder how Cor had planned to defend Aravis from him if he had not felt merciful or just.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven: Obscured

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Obscured

Thalia sat with her back braced against the comforting embrace of her Tree. She was half-tempted to sleep in it after reading Peter's letter. Her tears had already stained it horribly but still she read it again.

 _My Dearest Flower,_

 _I have . . . Oh, blast it all, I've no comfort to offer you this time. No tidings of courage. Please don't tell Edmund I told you this but I do not think the journey shall end while Summer yet dances in Narnia. I fear it will join Autumn's waltz and perhaps even with Winter if we cannot find a way to cut into those dances and force the journey back to our bright lady by the sea._

 _I must go._

 _Peter_

A tear fell from her lashes and dropped onto the parchment, marring Peter's signature. Oh her poor oak. She could feel him straining against the winds. She clasped the letter to her breast as a little sob escaped her. Oh, how she wished she could go to him. But, it was too far and the winds had been steady in blowing from the north. In all likelihood by the time she had fought against them and gone north, Peter would have moved his camp. Not to mention, she had promised him and her parents and the rest of the Four and Princess Alambiel that she would not do such a thing.

How she wished she might speak her heart plainly but Edmund's rules lay as a heavy barrier between such a wish being granted. Last night she had written a letter sixteen pages long, laying out her heart, her fears, her joys, her hopes, her loves to her strong oak. This morn she had burned it or else she would have given it to a courier. There was so much she wished to tell Peter. She hugged herself. So much he needed to know and yet she could not confide in him. And, she could not offer him the comfort and succor of knowing that her Tree stood beside him. Her roots were joined to his roots and he did not have to face the storm alone.

"Thalia!" Her mother's call pulled her from her reverie.

Wiping her eyes with her sleeves, Thalia carefully folded Peter's letter and then slowly rose to her feet. She wished she was with Peter.

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Peter stared out at the grey scene before him. Ettinsmoor was covered in rain again. He turned back to the table and the map that tracked their latest retreat. Retreat. Oh how he had come to despise that word in the last fortnight. The Giants were winning every battle now and they were forced to sound the retreat earlier and earlier to prevent their forces from suffering too many losses. Yet every fight had ended with the Ettins and Harfangers and their comrades carrying off Narnians to toss in their cooking pots.

Peter suddenly shoved everything off the table. Several glass inkwells shattered, staining the maps and lists and coating the markers.

His hands were shaking as he formed them into fists and then he snapped, "Leave it."

The page who had been about to clean up the mess froze. Peter grit his teeth against the scornful words that fought to be unleashed against the hapless Faun. "Leave."

The Faun fled. Bast and Babur remained, their green eyes fixed on him. Peter glared at them and pointed at the open tent flap. "I said leave."

They went. He undid the ties, blocking out the sight of grey Ettinsmoor, grey rain, and soaked soldiers. Stomping across the mess, he dropped into his hammock and buried his face in his hands. Oh Aslan, every way to salvage this campaign was obscured. Nothing he did seemed to prevent the Fell Giants from making headway. Nothing he did prevented the loss of Narnian life. What was he to do?

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Poor Peter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Squared Up

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Squared Up

16 Sunbend 1014

Oreius observed the camp in silence. The rain did not bother him as he stood out on the bluff overlooking the sleeping camp. Only a few of the watch stirred as the cooks struggled against the weather to prepare a hearty breakfast. He turned his head slightly at the sounding of approaching hooves and met Ardon's inquiring gaze. "We will take a day of rest, Captain."

His friend smiled and offered a slight bow. "I will see to it. And, Oreius, I believe most of the camp will be grateful for such a reprieve. Perhaps letters will come today as well."

He could only hope. However, he did not say anything on that, choosing instead to offer a curt nod before he turned back to his vigil. His thoughts did not stray to home and what mischief his minx of a wife had undoubtedly found for her own entertainment. They stayed much closer to camp. His eyes fell once more on the dark red tent in the center of camp. His colt was brooding. It was time to knock that out of him.

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Peter yelped as he jerked awake to find himself airborne for a split second before he collapsed heavily to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, his hand went to his side only to remember that Rhindon was yet slung over the stand. His burning gaze sought out the intruder and wondered what he had done to incapacitate his Tigers. He was immediately confronted with a large dark shape. Rain droplets yet clung to him, giving him a wilder look than usual, and a fierce light stirred within those dark eyes. "Take your sword, Wolfsbane. Now, come."

Peter's hands were already tightening his sword belt before he had enough presence of mind to ask, "Oreius? What is going on?"

The Centaur never even turned back to look at him as he answered, "What has happened is you have grown slack in your training, Wolfsbane. I shall remedy this."

Oh no. Peter didn't dare say anything in return, knowing he would be unable to keep his despair from showing. Whenever Oreius decided one of his students was slacking, he sought to remedy the situation with unyielding and at times vicious thoroughness. Peter could still remember the way his muscles had screamed for a fortnight after the last time Oreius had found a flaw in his training he viciously stomped out. He winced at the memory. Still, he followed the Centaur.

He was a little surprised the rain even dared to land on Oreius considering the Centaur strode forward as though he weren't even aware of the dismal weather. Peter ran a hand over his face, wiping away the rain that swiftly turning from steady drizzle to a pelting menace. It was so dark and overcast he wasn't even sure if it was truly morn yet. Eying the cooking fires, he decided it was probably closer to dawn than anything else. Not that one could tell with the sky blanketed in dark grey clouds.

He heard the rasp of a blade being unsheathed. Instinct and training had him wrenching Rhindon free of the scabbard before he even fully registered that Oreius had wheeled about and was bearing down on him with both swords. His arms shook beneath the impact. Peter grit his teeth and then he let out a hoarse, wordless war cry. Hammering at the Centaur's guard, Peter sought any opening available.

In moments, his blood surging with the urge to fight, he could see only the faces of his enemies. Those horrid, forsaken, Fell Giants. He slashed at their legs only for them to leap out of the way. On he pursued them, these ugly demons of his failures. Rhindon danced in the rain, cutting through it yet never striking the ones he truly sought to wound. A powerful blow nearly knocked Rhindon free of his rain-slickened grasp then Peter found himself airborne. He landed hard on his back, all the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

Blinking against the pelting rain, he gasped for breath and then rolled to the side, bringing Rhindon with him. He sensed the next attack coming and looked into the face of that fell Giant who had dragged Thal- who had dragged a Nymph off. His face split into a taunting grin full of pointed teeth as he leered. Peter sucked in a deep breath and then he lunged, a war cry tearing free from his throat. He aimed Rhindon at the Giant's gut. The Giant sidestepped, his hand fastened on Peter's arm, wrenching Rhindon free of his grasp, and then, with a very light openhanded smack, drove Peter into the muddy ground.

Peter lay there, gasping as tears threatened, his face half-buried in the mud. His fingers tightened into fists and he tore at the sparse grass. He felt the ground shake but only a little, not as with a Giant's footsteps but only the heavy hooves of a Centaur. Rolling onto his back, Peter met the solemn gaze of his teacher and General. "Oreius," the word came out in a croak. Peter licked his chapped lips then tried again. "Oreius."

The Centaur bent toward him suddenly and extended his hand. "On your feet, Wolfsbane."

Accepting the hand, Peter let his General yank him to his feet. His body cried out at the movement and he suddenly realized sweat now joined the rain in soaking his hair and clothes, his limbs trembled with the familiar exhaustion of battle, and he felt as weak as a newborn kitten. He raised a shaking hand to his face, drew back his fingers covered with mud, and then cast a wary glance around them.

To his surprise, there were no guards and no soldiers about to have witnessed his rather sound defeat at the hands of the General. Peter swiped the mud off his cheek with his sodden sleeve and blinked through rain droplets at the impassive Centaur. Oreius turned and walked away.

A spark of burning irritation bloomed in Peter's heart. His breathing still harsh seemed to come in hissing bursts now as his provoked temper burned hotter and hotter. "Oreius."

The Centaur didn't stop nor did he turn his head or give any other indication that he heard him. Peter pressed his lips together in a thin line, fighting back the hot words that wished to break free. He couldn't berate the General where all could hear. He stomped after the Centaur, one hand grasping at his empty sheath, only now reminding him that Oreius still had Rhindon. Peter fumed silently as he followed the General into a dead-end gully. "General Oreius, it would seem you have forgotten to return my sword."

He held out his hand expectantly as the Centaur slowly turned to face him, but Rhindon was not returned. Instead, his General stated simply, "I did not forget." He turned back and drove Rhindon point first into the soggy ground in front of a scraggly tree. "You may have your sword back, Wolfsbane, when you have earned it."

"What!" Peter took a step forward, forgetting in that moment that though he had grown broad chested and now stood taller than Kat he was still no physical match for a grown Centaur, and clench his fists together. "What reason have you to dictate such terms to me?"

"You are not in the correct frame of mind to be carrying a weapon. Were we in Cair Paravel I would have placed you on the limited duty roster." Oreius gave him a very stern look. "When you have earned back the right to wield a weapon, then I shall return Rhindon to your hand."

Peter's fingers found his dagger and then he released it. He took a deep breath, but it did naught to cool his temper. He clenched his teeth and hissed, "It may amuse you, General Oreius, to handicap a soldier during a war campaign but I assure I am not amused. You will return my sword at once, sir."

"Why should I?"

"Because I have need of it when we engage the Giants today."

Oreius didn't even blink as he replied simply, "I have declared today a day of rest. We will not go to war this day if the Giants do not bring the battle to our camp and the scouts report that they keep a healthy distance."

Peter could hardly believe his ears. He stared dumbfounded at the Centaur and then exclaimed, "Do you wish this campaign to continue into winter? Is that why you resort to sabotage?" His eyes narrowed and the words, now unlocked, spilled forth without regard for caution or diplomacy as he seethed, "It wouldn't bother you one whit if we remained trapped here in the north until next summer, would it? Have you not got your fill of slaying Giants yet, General? Or does your lack of a proper homelife urge you to stay away as long as possible? I never thought it of you but I'm beginning to see now. Do you not care for the soldiers we have lost? I know I am to blame for choosing to pursue these accursed Giants into their own lands but I never expected to lose so much ground to them, so many soldiers. Soldiers whose loved ones will never see them again. _I_ am responsible for those deaths and for the families torn apart because these soldiers obeyed my command." He pressed his lips together, breaking off the tide of words, but then he looked over the Centaur who remained an impassive shadowy part of the scene before and contempt entered his voice as he added, "You don't have to worry about your family. I do. You don't have to worry about your wife. I do. You may not miss home. I do. You may not need to be with your family. I do."

It was amazing how swiftly someone as big as Oreius could move. In truth, Peter didn't even see it happen. All he knew was a moment later, he was lying flat on his back in the mud and Oreius was pinning him down with one heavy hoof. The Centaur's angular features looked a little sharper now despite the rain. Yet nothing changed in his impassive tone as he stated, "You are a very foolish colt, Peter Pevensie."

Peter couldn't seem to draw enough breath to protest but it did not seem to matter. Oreius continued sternly, "You are not responsible for the lives lost on this campaign. You are not responsible for the need to retreat. It is a bitter thing to do yet I thought I had taught you retreats do occur in battle and, at times, are necessary to prevent utter defeat. I also thought I had taught you to take responsibility only for the things you can change. There was a need to address the threat of the Northern Giants. Our encounter with them last year more than confirmed this need. Every soldier who goes into battle knows the potential price for his service. You are not responsible for the lives lost. That blame lies solely at the feet of the Giants who slew them. Did I not teach you and your brother this lesson?" The Centaur moved his hoof, freeing Peter, and walked back toward Rhindon as he added darkly, "I thought I also taught you to choose your words carefully."

Compelled to keep him in sight, Peter shoved up from the muddy ground and slowly approached the Centaur. He had nearly reached him when Oreius spun to face him and the first hint of anger began to glitter in those dark eyes. "It would seem though I have failed in this lesson and it becomes necessary to correct your exhibited and most erroneous assumptions. You are not the only one in this campaign who is missing home or family or spouse. You are certainly not the only one who cares for the lives lost and those families who have suffered the loss of loved ones. Every officer cares. Every soldier cares. Every healer cares. I have no wish for this campaign to last one moment longer than it must for us to achieve our goal of securing Narnia's safety from the threat of the Northern Giants. Even an army on campaign must rest. I seek now to ensure there is no self-sabotage at work among our ranks."

The Centaur paused for a moment but Peter could think of nothing to say as shame slowly began to creep over him, pushing away the anger that lit his veins. Oreius shook his head and then an angry light filled his eyes and a tightness threaded through his voice as he continued, "You seem to think I have a very small family, Wolfsbane. My family does not include my wife alone. It also includes the four colts and fillies given into my care by Aslan. I worry over them daily. Yes, I do miss the peace of my home. A long campaign wears at one, no matter who you are. I need to be with my family because that is the best way for me to know to my satisfaction that they are safe." His expression darkened considerably as thunder rumbled through the grey clouds above. "I worry about my wife. I miss her greatly but I am worried about her. The restrictions on the letters and Alambiel's own nature would keep her from sending me word if anything happened. If she lost another foal and nearly died of that one too, I would not know it until I return to Cair Paravel. In some of her letters, I suspect she is troubled by something but she will not tell me and I cannot ask more plainly as I would if we were together. It is never easy, Peter, to leave someone you love behind or to be separated from them for a significant amount of time. It will never be easy but we do it because it is our duty. Do you truly believe I prefer being away from my wife? I enjoy being in her company. Spending these last five months separated from her have not been easy. No more than it has been for you to be separated from Thalia or Ardon to be separated from Alithia."

Shame made his cheeks burn beneath the mud as he listened. He had forgotten how much Kat and Oreius had been through… He had forgotten…too much. Peter looked away then he gave himself a little shake and forced himself to face Oreius once more. "How do you bear it?"

The dark look faded slightly as Oreius sighed, flicking his tail. "With the knowledge that Alambiel expects me to do what must be done for as long as is required to carry out this duty. I do what must be done so that I may return to my wife knowing I have earned the right to do so and I may face her without shame."

Peter ran a hand over his face. Nodding to himself, he realized he knew what had to be done. "Then we can't return home until we've finished this business. And, we can't finish anything if we are continually forced to retreat." He looked up at Oreius, meeting the Centaur's dark eyes, as he stated firmly, "I am not going to stop until I've forced Borak's back to the gates of Harfang and he is willing to sign a treaty." He hesitated then added, "You didn't deserve the brunt of my anger, Oreius, and I apologize for my foolishly spoken words. I should not have accused you. Although we may not go to war today, would you be amenable to forming a new plan for this campaign? I'm sure we all want to be home in time for Christmas."

Oreius didn't respond at first. Instead, he freed Rhindon and then extended the sword hilt first to Peter. "It seems a wise course of action, Your Majesty. Let us break our fast and then we may begin."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine: Arrangements

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Arrangements

Edmund grinned as he passed Bree carrying young Cor on his back, obviously talking to him about how to sit and hold the reins based on the boy's movements. He swung off Philip's back and then rubbed the Horse's cheek. "Shall I rub you down, Philip, or would you prefer more skilled hands?"

The chestnut Horse snorted and shook his mane. "None of that now." He nipped at Edmund's sleeve. "The grooms here in Archenland brush my coat so lightly I can hardly feel it and when I ask them to brush a little harder they shy and buck like frightened foals."

Edmund repressed a chuckle at the image and the steadfast complaint. For the Horse had uttered the exact same complaint every time Edmund offered to let another groom him, even in Cair Paravel (though that was always well out of earshot of any who tended the stables). Resting his hand lightly on Philip's neck as they walked toward the stables, Edmund glanced back at the other Horse and his boy. "I see you spoke to our friend Bree."

Philip whickered and shook his mane. One of his ears flicked back as he commented, "That poor soul has much to learn about what really occurs in Narnia. Even more than Hwin if I'm not mistaken. Nasty business these slavers stealing away foals before they can be taught the truth of what it is to be Narnian and to be a follower of Aslan."

"We'll have to tighten our southern border patrols. All that business up north and occasionally to the west has blinded us to our rearguard." Edmund paused as he thought of something. "Are Bree and Hwin a couple, Philip?"

The chestnut Horse snorted. "You have been spending too much time with those Wolves. That sounded exactly like the sort of question they would ask, foolish pups."

He barely repressed a laugh. He supposed the Horse did have a point, that had sounded remarkably like something Remus Greyback would say. "You know, they aren't really puppies anymore. They're practically grown up."

Philip rolled one large dark eye. "Have you looked at them?" He tossed his head up as the Wolves streaked across the field with two Hawks diving at them and screeching. "They most certainly have not grown up and are as green as the first day your brother plagued you with them."

Edmund hid a smirk as he watched the Wolves nearly trip over their own paws trying to get away from the irate Birds. They had probably tried to get them to play by nipping their tail feathers. The Wolves turned tail and raced to the large camp where most of their forces rested, awaiting the return to Narnia. "Be fair, Philip. They've saved my life many times over since that day I tripped over Remus sprawled in front of my door. They're loyal. All right, so they're not always the most clever and hardly ever remember the rules of etiquette no matter how many times they've been lectured, but they've good hearts and they're loyal to a fault."

"You already said that," Philip grumbled. He cast the camp a baleful look. "No matter how loyal they are, they are menaces and cause more trouble than any royal guard should. They never think before they speak, especially the younger of them."

"And, they can follow me where you can't, which is what really troubles you because you don't trust them."

Philip snorted but said nothing as a breathless page ran up to them. The boy's face was flushed and he gasped for air in a way that made Edmund think Oreius would have immediately put the boy to learning endurance exercises, beginning with the General's favorite-visiting the points of the compass. "What is it, lad?"

The boy gasped a few more seconds before he finally wheezed, "King Lune- wants- to see- you- Sire. Right- away."

Philip looked the boy over and then said kindly, "I think you need to be walked a little longer to wind down from your run."

The boy's flushed face immediately blanched and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. Edmund reached out and took him by the arm, a little worried the lad would collapse then and there. Leading him over to a table and stool set up in the shade of the stables, Edmund didn't give the boy a chance to protest before he had him sit. Then he fetched a pitcher of water and poured a glass for the boy. He practically forced the child to take it. "Quench your thirst, lad. You'll not be able to deliver any messages if you wither away from thirst and exhaustion." He crossed his arms as he waited for the boy to drink some of the water. "You say King Lune wishes to see me?"

The boy nodded. He lowered the cup and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Yes, King Edmund. He said right away and you're to meet him in his study." The boy started to get up. "I'll show you the way."

"No." Edmund gently pushed the boy back onto the stool. "You, my lad, shall remain here until you have properly cooled off and then you shall resume your duties."

"But, Sir!"

"I know the way." Edmund rocked back on his heels, looking quite grave as he stared down at the boy. "I have been visiting the King's study longer than you've walked this good earth, lad." When the boy's eyes widened again, Edmund offered a little smirk. "Have no fear, boy. I have taken no offense. Indeed, I shan't unless you refuse to heed me in this matter."

"N-no, Sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean, I won't not heed you, sir." The boy promptly raised the cup to his mouth and took a large gulp.

Edmund suppressed a snicker. Instead, he nodded. "Very good." He turned back to Philip. "I'm afraid I shan't be able to groom you myself at this moment. Shall I find a groom for you?"

"No need," the Horse replied placidly, flicking his tail. "I shall pass the time ensuring the foal does as he's told."

Following the Horse's gaze to the boy, Edmund almost smirked at the somewhat alarmed look that appeared on the child's face when he realized Philip was looking at him. Edmund turned back to his friend and patted his neck. "Try not to smother him, Susan."

The Horse snorted and smacked him in the face with his tail on his way toward the boy. Edmund coughed but didn't splutter. At least, Peter hadn't been there to witness Philip's reprimand. His brother always enjoyed it entirely too much. Moving at a quick pace, it didn't take Edmund long to reach Lune's study. He knocked and then entered on the heels of Lune's cheerful greeting. He immediately offered a polite bow. "You wished to see me, Your Majesty?"

Lune's face crinkled as he grinned widely. "No need for formality, my son, no need. Especially not after you and yours restored my Cor to me. Please have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." He looked over Edmund's simple tunic and leggings and dusty boots with a knowing eye and added with a laugh, "Ha ha, though I dare say you already are the more comfortable of us. Hunting?"

Edmund shook his head. "Not today. I merely enjoyed the companionship of a good friend."

Lune nodded once more. Then, he turned his head with an odd light appearing in his eyes as his smile faded a little. "I wish my Zusa had lived to see this day."

He followed the older king's gaze to the portrait hanging on the wall depicting Zusa and both twins. "Did she believe Cor survived?"

"Yes. Or, at least, she always hoped and had more faith than I did. There was a time, a long time, when I thought my oldest lost to me until I journey to Aslan's Country. But now, praise Aslan, he has come back to me." Lune regained some of his cheer at that statement as he turned back to Edmund but the older king's face quickly grew grave again. "However, his return brings some slight difficulties as well."

Edmund's eyes narrowed as he recalled certain lords' looks and furtive whispers. "Grumblings over his raising?"

"And the companion he has brought with him into my house."

"I should have expected as much. Archenland has suffered much at the hands of Calormen this past season. Having a Tarkheena in their midst is no doubt salt on the wound and having the educated prince superseded by his elder brother who has not had the proper training probably stirs up concern as well."

"You've hit upon the mark, Your Majesty." Lune leaned forward. "I have already set Corin's tutors to working with Cor but there have been…difficulties. They refuse to acknowledge that my son was not in an environment where he might learn even the most basic schooling. Cor will not speak of it to me but Queen Lucy and the Lady Aravis have both seen him struggling. He confessed to Aravis as well that he feels a fool for not knowing anything at all." A sadness entered the older man's face now, making him seem even older than he was, as he added, "Neither child trusts me enough to come to me on the matter. The girl went to your lady sister. My son… My son seems to fear disappointing me and I regret that the securing of my country and of the transition from Corin to Cor as Crown Prince devours more of my time by the day. I cannot spend even half as much time I should wish with my son and I cannot find a way to help him adjust to his new life." He paused once more, this time looking Edmund steadily in the eyes, before he continued, "At least not in Archenland."

It didn't take him even a full minute to realize what Lune was hinting at. He straightened in his chair. "Am I to understand you wish us to bring Cor to Narnia when we depart two days hence?"

"Not just Cor. I believe it would be of great benefit to have all three, my sons and the Lady Aravis as well, go with you to Narnia. It was previously agreed that Corin should live in your court and learn from you for a year and a half, until next May. It is only August now. If Cor and the Lady Aravis lived in your court for the next year, perhaps two, they might come to understand and love the North with greater ease and capacity than they shall here where every failure shall be whispered about in court no matter the precautions or penalties I shall put in place."

Edmund didn't speak right away. Instead, he contemplated the reaction Oreius would have if Corin ended up staying in Narnia for another two years. He gave a little mental shudder. The General would not be pleased and Edmund would bear the brunt of his wrath. However, Edmund had already seen signs that Cor shared very little of his twin's attitude. He looked up and met Lune's gaze. "Very well, Your Majesty. We shall welcome your sons and the Lady Aravis into Cair Paravel's court. In a year's time, we shall evaluate whether Prince Cor and Aravis Tarkheena will remain in our court for another year. However, next Mayblossom you shall be getting Prince Corin back. General Oreius won't have it any other way I fear."

Lune chuckled. "I have warned Corin many a time to stay out of the good General's way. Any punishment handed him by that worthy is no doubt well-deserved." Then, he rose and came around the desk to clasp Edmund's hand in his own. "You have my thanks for this, King Edmund."

Edmund smirked. "Sir, my sisters would have had my skin if I had even dreamed of denying your request."

Lune burst into a deep belly laugh as he slapped Edmund on the back and then caught him in a crushing bear hug. "My thanks, still." He set Edmund back on his feet. "I shall inform the children this eve-"

"Actually, you might wish to permit Lu to break the news. Else, the young prince might think you are sending him away for his failures."

Lune stopped suddenly. "I had not considered it. However… Aye, you are correct, my lord. Your lady sister would best handle it. I shall merely have to assure Cor this is the best for him when I speak to him afterward."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Yes, I live. I shall endeavor to get at least one or two more chapters up soon (not today but soon). My real life obligations and writing have grown immensely so I shall post when I can. Rest assured I'm not abandoning anything. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	30. Chapter Thirty: A Return

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty: A Return

12 Sunbend 1014

Hwin watched nervously as the large chestnut Stallion looked between her and Bree. Even though they had spent several weeks resting from their travels and learning from the other Talking Horses, she still felt incredibly shy around the others of her kind save Bree. Bree did not seem to feel the same apprehension as she did but then he was a great warhorse. The Horse who actually carried King Edmund (even though it was completely different from what Shasta…oh, Prince Cor had told them about Narnian protocol) had introduced himself as Philip. His nicker filled the air, calling Hwin's attention to him. She flicked her tail and ducked her head a little as she realized he had noticed her inattention.

However, he was kind enough not to mention it. Instead, he spoke in the mild voice that had immediately soothed her fears the first day she had resolved to introduce herself to the Horses who had accompanied the army to Archenland. "I asked you both to meet with me so that I might prepare you for our journey."

"I don't see what preparation we need," Bree interjected. "We are free Narnians and we are going home at last."

Hwin resisted the temptation to nip him for being so rude. Stallions didn't appreciate correction in the best of circumstances. And, in addition to being very proud, Bree was a warhorse. Nothing good ever came of nipping a warhorse. She hoped Philip would not take offense, though. She had witnessed the fights between stallions before and if their dumb cousins were fierce, how much worse would it be if two Stallions battled?

Philip's ears flicked back for only a second before he answered simply, "There are dangers in the mountains and it has been long since either of you ventured through the passes. Though the pass is well-guarded, there is always the chance that some Fell creatures might attempt an attack." He paused, turning his head to look at Bree with one liquid dark eye. "And, surely you wish to know the protocol we will be following as we proceed into Cair Paravel."

That made Bree stamp a hoof and swish his still-short tail but he did not protest or interrupt again as Philip explained the routes they would follow and detailed where the best grazing would be found at the planned stopping places (though he promised he would find them and show them). Finally, the Stallion said, "Do not forget we leave on the morrow at dawn. Their majesties are eager to return home."

Hwin nervously broke the brief silence, ducking her head a little further. "Please, sir, might…that is, might we see the High King himself when we return?"

Philip and Bree both looked at her and she could tell that Bree thought she was being too bold even though it was Philip who asked, "You wish to speak with the High King?"

"Oh no!" Hwin shook her mane and repeated anxiously, "No, not at all. I would never presume such a thing. He is probably far too busy to even consider speaking to a lowly Mare as I. I merely wondered, that is I had thought it…well, it might be wonderful to see him if only for a moment. Something to cherish when I rejoin my herd." She gave a wistful little whinny.

"If the High King has returned home, madam, I think you will find he always makes time to speak with even the most lowly of his subjects."

"If he has returned home?" Bree echoed.

Hwin pricked her ears but didn't say anything. Philip snorted. "The High King is on campaign against the Northern Giants." He added after a moment, "And, when we reach Cair Paravel, my boy will wish to speak to you both concerning the events that led to your abductions. However, I believe that is all we need discuss. Rest well tonight. If you need help finding your places tomorrow, send word to me and I shall help."

Bree huffed. "There are some matters I need to see to before we leave. Philip, Hwin, goodnight."

She watched as Bree trotted away, back toward the stables. She wondered if he was going to try to find Sha- Prince Cor. She had seen him once more carrying the foal two days past, this time talking to him about how to use the reins. Something he had never allowed during their travels.

Realizing Philip hadn't left yet, she flicked her tail and wished it was growing faster. It was very uncomfortable to have one's tail too short to flick away bothersome flies. Hwin darted a shy glance toward the chestnut Stallion.

"Was there something else you wished to ask?"

She ducked her head a little, feeling incredibly forward to even contemplate asking this Stallion anything but she did not know who else might help. "Yes. Well, that is, I- I don't know if I shall be of help to your boy, I mean, the Just King. It's been so long and I was so very young when I was stolen and-" She hung her head further. "I was so terrified, I didn't pay any attention to my surroundings. If fear had not stolen my voice, no doubt I would have revealed myself to the men who stole me. I hope…I hope the Just King won't be too terribly angry with me."

"Dear lady, your circumstances are most understandable and my boy _is_ the Just King. He will not fault you for what could not be changed." Philip stopped, studying her closely. "How old were you when stolen?"

"A very young foal." She lowered her gaze. "I…I still needed my dam."

"Then it was very understandable that you would not remember the details of your abduction very well. My boy will understand." Philip began to walk toward the stables. He stopped and swung his head around to look back at her. "It may take time, Hwin, but we will help you find your herd."

She had not mentioned that fear to anyone, not Aravis, not Bree, and not Shasta, but it was there, nipping at her whenever she allowed herself to think of Narnia. She could not think of anything to say save two simple and very quiet words, "Thank you."

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Remus pricked his ears up at the sound of puppies yipping and growling. Well, actually it was the puppy who always made Alpha groan like he was in pain who was growling. Pushing through the legs of the people in front, he found Alpha standing next to Philip. They were both watching the center of the courtyard where Queen Lucy stood with the three puppies and with the two new Horses (they were both very afraid of him and Romulus even though Philip had already told them not to chase them and they hadn't). Corin, who smelled like bacon and made Remus lick his jaws wishing Alpha had given him a bigger helping at breakfast, was growling and had pinned his new brother to the ground. He got to his feet and crossed his arms. Remus knew that look would have been accompanied by pinned back ears if Sons of Adam had proper ears. Corin growled. "No! It's not fair. Why should they ride on Horses when I'm still on a pony? And they shouldn't be riding Talking Horses neither! They're not King Edmund!"

Queen Lucy pulled him off his new brother. "Corin! Where are thy manners? 'Tis thou who acts the part of an unworthy little prince. Do not attack your brother."

The girl puppy showed him her teeth. She was definitely an alpha even if she was very young. "You're just jealous because Shasta, I mean, Cor has ridden a Horse. We didn't ask Bree and Hwin to carry us. They are merely being the kind and most noble Horses they are in offering to help ease our journey further as we traverse into unfamiliar territory. And he needs the help! Have you seen him trying to guide the ponies?"

Corin's new brother turned very red as he stood up and whispered, "Aravis, it's all right. Really."

Queen Lucy interrupted, a touch of growl entering her voice (which was always very bad to hear), as she said, "Enough! That is enough out of all of you." She turned to the two new Horses and said in happier voice, "Cousins, we thank you for your generous offer but I believe today will benefit from all three of these children riding on the ponies King Lune has provided." She pulled Corin a little further away from his littermate. "Now, little prince, you shall all ride on ponies and you shall apologize to your brother at once for your shameful behavior."

Remus pawed at Alpha's leg. He looked like he was walking in his sleep again as he leaned against Philip's side with his eyes closed. "Alpha?"

Alpha grunted but Remus knew Alpha didn't like to talk when the sun wasn't up yet.

"Alpha, do we get to chase the puppies?"

"No." Alpha pulled himself onto Philip's back and then nodded to Lord Peridan. Remus loped alongside him, tail wagging and tongue lolling. He was happy to go home. He wondered if he could find the Badger spies again. He also wondered if the new brother would give him his food at lunch.

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18 Sunbend 1014

 _My dear Peter,_

 _How I wish you were home. There is so much I wish to tell you, so much that should be said but cannot because mere ink will not hold it. I wish you were here. No matter how many dances you must partner, no matter if Winter also begs your attention, do not forget me, do not forget us. Oh, Peter, I know you will not for you are my steadfast and strong oak. Do not let despair rot your roots. Do not heed the whispers of failure no matter how challenging the battle. They are lies. Let your sword and shield be as strong as truth and goodness themselves! This is my prayer for you. Let them be so in such a way that you may come home to me swift on the wings of victory. What you do is so important, my love. I know it is even though I ache to hold you in my arms again, to hear you whisper my name, to hear you sing those lovely ballads for me as you did. That helps me to endure this parting. Oh, Peter, please fight to come home. Do not let the northern axes fell you. Write me, reassure me that you will not. I take strength in your words as my tree is strengthened by the sun. And keep what I have enclosed near to your heart._

 _All my love,_

 _Thalia_

Peter smiled as he once more read Thalia's precious words. He looked down at the three blossoms she had sent with it. They had two flowers each, equaling six the same number of years they'd been wed. It was wonderful irony that her letter had arrived on their anniversary. The rain that had been falling so steadily was finally lessening, though it still drummed steadily against the sides of the tent. He lifted the pressed flowers and kissed them then he put the precious gift into a small bag embroidered with a rampant lion the girls had sent him for his birthday. He slipped the bag's cord over his head and made sure the bag rested over his heart. He would have to send a letter thanking Susan and Lucy for it since it let him fulfill Thalia's wishes. Standing up, he pulled on both layers of tunics and then added his chain mail shirt and tabard. Pulling his cloak on and lifting the hood, Peter went to meet the Unicorn who had volunteered to carry him into the day's battle. At least, Frost would be safe. He rested a gloved hand against his tabard, right over his heart, and murmured, "I'm coming home, Flower. I'm just taking the long route."

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18 Sunbend 1014

Susan glanced over the letter she'd received only a few minutes before breakfast was set out on the eastern balcony. "Thalia says she will be returning in Twirleaf unless Peter sends word of his return before then. Oh, and both Theia and Vedis will accompany her back to Cair Paravel."

"It will be good for her to have them nearby while Peter's gone. The separation is hitting her hard."

Susan chose not to comment about how Kat herself glanced north at least six times already. She was in need of different advice from the older woman in any case. "Kat, another delegation has arrived with intent of pursuing my hand."

Kat took a sip of her coffee. "You mean they haven't bought your new 'no suitors for the Gentle' stance?"

"Kat."

She smiled. "Yes, yes, I know. Sorry. I don't have the Kentauri to get most of my teasing out of my system right now and it makes it more difficult to ignore the openings the rest of you present so often. Anyway, might I suggest a different tactic? You've been refusing to see any potential suitors at all. What if you saw them? Only you should wear a veil that will obscure your features and cough."

"Cough?" She was beginning to have her doubts about Kat's logic this time. "I don't understand."

"Trust me, it will work. Actually, I have a veil you can borrow. And remember to cough, sniffle or sneeze if you can, oh and speak hoarsely if at all possible."

The sound of trumpets cut off Susan's half-formed protest. She leapt to her feet, only partially aware of the fact Kat had also gained her feet, and rushed to the railing. Her eyes strained to pick out the details of the approaching column. The wind whipped past her, blowing in off the sea, and filled the banners. Narnia's gold lion rampant on a red field and then the personal banners. "It's Edmund and Lucy. Oh, thank Aslan, Anvard is secured."

She spun and lifted her skirts slightly as she ran through the Cair until she reached the main doors. Kat joined her only a moment later and they descended the stairs together. Susan faltered on her last step as she realized five riders had broken away from the main column, three of them on ponies. "Is that…?"

"Dear Lion, there's two of them," Kat murmured when she saw the two towheaded boys who looked identical even from a distance. "The Kentauri is going to have a conniption."

Susan couldn't think of what to say. All she could think about was how she might have been able to bring the lost prince home but instead she hadn't even realized it was not Corin who had returned to her dressed in rags and barefoot. It had been years since she last thought of Cor as being alive. It seemed so impossible. Yet Aslan had restored him and used him to fulfill the prophecy given by the prophet Stormseer.

Kat touched her shoulder. "There's a military thing I have to take care of. I'll greet the weary travelers when I can. Don't let Edmund let those two in the armory." Then she rushed off.

Left alone, Susan's mind raced frantically for something to say. An apology for mistaking the new crown prince for his brother? For not realizing he needed their help so desperately? But when Edmund swung down from Philip's back, all thoughts of Cor and Corin fled her. With a stifled cry, she flung herself into her brother's arms. Her tears wet his neck and then she peppered his face with kisses.

Edmund grimaced and pulled away. "Susan, no more kissing."

The age-old protest caused her to laugh even as she pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, Ed! I'm so glad you're home and you're not hurt."

"Of course, he is, Susan."

She caught her little sister in a hug and was so glad when the hug was returned freely. She still felt so ashamed for having given Rabadash and his father the perfect excuse to attack Archenland. Finally, she drew back and turned to face the three young children. "Corin, introduce me to your new companions."

The boy huffed and stopped inching toward the training yard. He pointed at his twin. "That is Crown Prince Cor who shall be attending all the boring lessons now instead of me." He jabbed his finger at the young Calormene girl. "And, she's Aravis." His face suddenly lit up and he waved both arms over his head. "Thane! Shane! Wait for me!"

Corin tore off after his friends without waiting for permission to leave. Susan shook her head. The dear boy acted as though he hadn't seen Peridan's twins in ages when it had barely been three full months. She turned to the remaining children. She noticed that they watched her with equal apprehension. She gave them her best welcoming smile. "I am pleased to meet you properly, my dear Prince Cor. And, I am also pleased to meet you, Lady Aravis. Welcome to Cair Paravel."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, we're about to find out how well Cair Paravel can withstand having Cor, Corin, and Aravis all in the same place (not to mention Peridan's twins). ;) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	31. Chapter Thirty-One: Cor

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-One: Cor

27 Twirleaf 1014

The first rays of dawn had only begun to pierce the darkness of night. The campfires had burned down to faintly glowing embers. The sentries were sloppy, leaning on their spears as they dozed or deep in their cups. Yet another weakness of the Northern Giants and a valuable advantage to their troops.

Oreius raised one hand, fist clenched. The whisper of movement behind him halted immediately. He never took his eyes off the encampment below. Five. The two wing troops led by Sherket and Lieutenant Gavril would be in positon now. Four. He signaled the lancers to the left. Three. Archers to the right. Two. Light troops behind him. One. Oreius reared, unsheathing his claymore, and charged.

The Narnians swept down the rocky incline. No sound passed their lips. The Ettins were too dull from sleep and wine to recognize the trembling of the ground beneath them until it was too late.

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"Look out!"

Cor leapt to the side just in time to keep from being run down by his twin. Corin tossed him a toothy grin. "Run for it! Don't let them know it's you!"

"What?"

But, his brother didn't answer. Instead, he spun on his heel and fled deep into the hedge maze. Cor hesitated a moment longer then he heard a loud and rather angry shout. Even after several months living in Bree's beloved North, Cor's first instinct upon hearing a grown-up shouting was to flee. Panic gripped him as his feet flew. He didn't go into the maze. The last time Corin had talked him into going in there he had been stranded for four hours before King Edmund came to fetch him for supper.

His mad dash down the garden path was cut short before it had really even begun. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around with dizzying force. Cor stared mutely up into the face of a goat. Well, actually a Satyr. Only Satyrs weren't usually green from what he'd seen of them. His eyes went wide as the Satyr shook him. "I do not care if you are a prince, this will not go unpunished."

Cor tensed. He hadn't seen anyone being beat in Cair Paravel but that didn't mean the beatings weren't happening. His fath- Arsheesh beat him all the time and he had heard the old men in the village discussing beatings so he knew that beatings sometimes happened in the square and sometimes in the master's house. He swallowed hard. "I-"

The Satyr stamped his cloven hoof and for a moment a terrifying light filled his eye. Then, with a snort of disgust, he shoved him at a very stern-looking Faun clad in armor. "I suggest, Captain Cletus, that you take Prince Corin to Dame Sepphora for punishment. Their Majesties are yet in court."

"And, the Queens, Lion bless them, would allow him to escape too easily," the Faun muttered as he grasped Cor's arm in a firm but not ungentle manner. "Come along, you young buck. Let us see what Dame Sepphora has to say to your latest mischief. Rigging buckets of dye to crash over the first officers to enter the meeting room? Had it not been so sloppy and you had not lingered so close as you laughed, it would have been almost clever enough to be one of her tricks. Almost." He paused and Cor opened his mouth to protest but it died on his tongue when the Faun gave him a little shake, disapproval written all over his face. "Now, do not pretend to be your brother. Prince Cor is far too timid a buck to attempt such a prank. Come now and there shall be no boxing so do not even begin to challenge me."

Cor darted a frightened glance up at the Faun captain but he was no longer looking down at him. Aravis had regaled him with stories about Dame Sepphora only that morning. She had met the dame yesterday and said she was as fierce as the goddess Ishara. Cor remembered that story. He had first wanted to hear it because the storyteller had mentioned the north but the tale of her bloodthirsty and wild ways made the goddess seem almost as terrifying as Tash. In the end, he had been quite glad when Tash subdued the wild goddess even though he had never quite understood how. Arsheesh had cuffed him when he asked him about the unfamiliar terms the storyteller had used and sent him to finish tending the donkey. Even though he knew Tash and Ishara weren't real the way Aslan was, Cor couldn't help feeling that he'd much rather not meet anyone who reminded Aravis of Ishara.

A frantic glance at the unfamiliar corridor reminded him that he still didn't know how to navigate through most of Cair Paravel. That morning marked the first time he had managed to get from his chamber to the front doors without getting lost. He contemplated kicking the Faun or dropping in a heap but then he reminded himself that he was no longer Shasta, the boy who was little more than a slave to Arsheesh. He was Cor, the son of Lune and the Crown Prince of Archenland, and should behave more bravely than he would have in his life as Shasta. Swallowing hard, he squared his shoulders as best he could while being marched along and raised his chin. King Edmund was constantly telling him to look people in the eyes and not to mumble or stutter if he could help it.

Yet, the task grew more difficult with every step they took to the fearsome Dame Sepphora. He had a strong suspicion that she was not at all like beautiful and gentle Queen Susan who made him think of what it would have been like to have had a mother. He had been absolutely bewildered when she had burst into tears after he had dared to confess this fact to the Gentle Queen whilst accompanying her on a walk through the room full of flowers, the…the, oh blast it, he could never remember the names in the fine palace. He had never been in a place that had so many rooms either. King Edmund had been there when it happened but he didn't seem angry with him for upsetting his sister. Instead, he had told him that Queen Susan was only crying because she wished he had known a mother's love.

Nor did Cor think that Dame Sepphora would be very much like Queen Lucy who laughed and played games and told such wonderful stories about Aslan. He could sit at her feet a whole day and night without eating to hear her speaking of Aslan. The joy and wonder that shone in her face during such tales always reminded him of the terrifying yet wonderful experience of meeting with Aslan and how it had felt to feel His breath on him. His breath had warmed his hand and yet Queen Lucy told of that same breath bringing life back to enchanted statues.

Cor was torn from his musings when the Faun suddenly stopped. They were standing in front of a door. Cor barely suppressed a cry of surprise when he was confronted by the intelligent gaze of a Big Cat. The Faun nodded to the Animal. "Ptah, the prince is to see Dame Sepphora for punishment. His highness may confess the deed to her with his own lips."

Then with an abruptness Cor found rather alarming, the Faun released his arm and scurried away at a fast clip. Cor stared after the Faun wishing that he had the courage to call for him, to admit he was too scared of Dame Sepphora to see her by himself. But, the words never left his throat.

He slowly turned back to the door and swallowed hard. The Big Cat was still watching him. He thought the Talking Beast was smirking a little but then even dumb cats could seem to smirk. "Is- Is she in?" he squeaked.

The Big Cat dipped his head, his gold eyes never leaving his face.

Cor swallowed again. He gazed at the door, which seemed rather imposing. _Courage. Princes have courage. They certainly wouldn't be caught quaking in a hallway, would they?_ He swallowed once more then raised his hand and knocked thrice. He was surprised he even managed that much without shaking.

"Come."

The voice didn't sound particularly fierce or monstrous. Slightly encouraged by this observation, Cor eased the door open. One last glance at the Big Cat and then he slipped into the room. There were stacks of papers everywhere. Several swords were mounted on the far wall and a pair of knives were slung on a chair. There was a huge map of Narnia and Archenland and all the surrounding countries and the islands just beneath the swords. Cor's eyes widened as he observed the pins stuck into the map. To his right there was a wall covered by shelves, most of which were full of books and scrolls although the top shelves were apparently dedicated to knick-knacks and such. To his left… To his left was a large desk and a woman sat at it, her head bent as her quill scratched across the parchment. A Falcon of some type was perched on the back of the nearest chair. The Bird's gaze was piercing and immediately made him feel an intruder. Cor dropped his head and stared at his feet. He was still getting used to wearing shoes every day.

The voice that had beckoned him spoke again. "Here, Tris. Fly swift and may the Lion lift your wings without ceasing."

There was the sharp cry of a raptor and the flap of wings. Then, the voice spoke once more, "Look at me."

Cor looked up and froze. Her crown was missing and the sky blue gown she wore was plainer than the intricately embroidered ones she had worn at the banquets but there was no doubt in Cor's mind that this was the Princess Royal. He had been too shy to ever speak to her just as he had been when the High King's wife (although she was not called the High Queen) returned to Cair Paravel two days past. He could hardly describe what the Princess Consort had looked like exactly. He only remembered that the lady had seemed very pale and sad when the conversation turned to the High King's continued absence. Then Corin and the only other set of twins (Corin introduced them as Shane and Thane) Cor had ever seen had run up to him and dragged him off to the beach.

"Your thoughts wander around a lot, don't they, Cor?"

"Yes, your highness. I mean no, your highness. I mean I wasn't the one who-" He stumbled to a halt and stared at her utterly bewildered for several moments before he stammered, "Y-you know I'm not Corin?"

The Princess Royal nodded, a little smile blooming, as she said simply, "Of course."

"But…" Cor trailed off, uncertain of how to put his thoughts into words polite enough to keep his ears from being boxed.

"You are wondering why I haven't mistaken you for your scalawag of a brother like others have today?"

He offered a mute little nod.

The Princess Royal's smile widened and he found himself tempted to return it as she replied cheerfully, "It's rather easy. You knocked and waited for me to say you could come in."

Cor's brow furrowed but before he could ask a question he felt certain would make him appear even more of a dunce than he really was, the Princess Royal continued, "Your brother is incapable of waiting for permission, much less knocking. You have manners, that's very good."

"I don't think I do."

The lady raised an eyebrow. "You don't? Why?"

Cor swallowed hard, remembering the embarrassment he had felt when in Anvard. "Master Torin said he knew mice with better manners than me."

"Torin is an old windbag who really should put a sock in it before berating children for things they had no opportunity to learn." The Princess Royal glanced up and laughed low and soft. "Don't look so shocked, Cor. Master Torin thinks I'm too forward for a lady. I delight in proving the old windbag knows nothing about Narnian women."

She stood up and moved around the stacks of paper surrounding the desk. Cor gazed up, far up at her as she neared him. She had to be the tallest woman he had ever seen in his life, taller even than Queen Susan and at least as tall as King Edmund. He took a little step back and a flicker of sadness entered her gaze. She stopped and then gestured to the chair the Falcon had been roosting on earlier. "Have a seat."

He didn't quite know what to make of her and then she acted quite unlike all the grown up ladies around Queen Susan by hopping up to sit on the edge of her desk. Cor hastily obeyed her command and clambered into the seat. It was big for him and his feet didn't quite touch the ground but when he looked up at the Princess Royal, she only winked at him. Cor found the knot of tension in his chest easing slightly. Maybe she wasn't as scary as Aravis described.

"Now, let's see. First things first. Don't worry about Corin. I will see to him later." Her gaze sharpened slightly and Cor began to rethink his conclusion that she wasn't as scary as Ishara as she added in a tone that would brook no argument, "And, the next time your brother sets you up to take the blame for his pranks, you will speak up and inform whoever catches you that you're Cor and not Corin. They might not believe you but you'll probably be brought to me anyway. Do try to remember, Cor, that correcting people's beliefs regarding your proper identity is not the same as ratting out your brother. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dame- I mean, yes, Princess Royal."

The Princess Royal smiled suddenly and he felt as though she were sharing a private joke with him. The feeling was enough that he did not feel as embarrassed when she gently corrected him. "If you're being formal, you should call me 'your highness.' However, I have decided to be informal. Therefore, you shall call me 'Princess Alambiel.'"

"Yes, Princess Alambiel." Cor paused then hesitantly asked, "But that Satyr said to take me to Dame Sepphora and Captain Cletus said I was to see Dame Sepphora too." He paused again and then asked, "Are you Dame Sepphora?"

She nodded, still smiling.

"But, you're Princess Alambiel."

Another nod.

Cor flopped back into the chair's embrace. "This is very confusing."

"Don't worry about it." Princess Alambiel's smile grew and he couldn't help smiling back. The Princess Royal tapped her heel against her desk. "Now, on to the second thing. You suffered Master Torin for etiquette. Which of Corin's other tutors did you have?"

Cor flinched at the memory of the ruler being snapped across his knuckles. He ducked his head. "None of them wanted to teach me. I'm too dumb."

"Rubbish. Anyone can learn if they wish to learn. Do you wish to learn, Cor?"

He nodded, scrubbing at his eyes and hoping against hope that she hadn't noticed his tears. "I don't want to be an embarrassment anymore."

"Why on earth would you be?"

The question sounded so full of surprise that he looked up. Princess Alambiel was watching him quizzically. Cor sniffed then admitted, "I don't know how to read or write. Master Tor said a proper prince would know these basics and even my scribbles are unreadable. My fath- Arsheesh didn't know how to read or write either."

"Idiots," the Princess Royal muttered. "They certainly don't have the temperament to teach true beginners."

Cor ducked his head again but then slender fingers slipped beneath his chin and forced him to look up. He met blue eyes that were surprisingly gentle and understanding. The Princess Royal shook her head. "Do not feel shame. There was no opportunity for you to learn and therefore you did not. Masters Tor and Torin are both pompous windbags who should be smacked with that ruler Tor is so fond of using. Ah, you know it. Your father would be furious to know about that occurrence. But never mind those two. Cor, there is absolutely no shame in only now learning how to read and write and learning etiquette."

"There isn't?"

Princess Alambiel straightened and then ruffled his hair. "No, there isn't. In fact, the Four did not begin their own etiquette lessons until they were crowned."

He stared at her, not quite able to believe such a thing. "Did- Did they have to learn how to read and write too?"

"Well, they knew the basics but they had to learn calligraphy and how to write with a quill and ink. And, Cor, you should know that many of the adults who came to Cair Paravel had to learn how to read and write in those first years after the Long Winter ended."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Really. Many parents learned alongside their young children. Sometimes the grandparents were learning along with their grandchildren. I will see about setting up a schedule for your lessons."

He watched her cross to one of the shelves and then select a small book. She opened the cover and then closed it with a snap. "Yes, this one will do very nicely."

She came back over to his chair and handed the book to him. Opening it, he was pleased to a beautiful map of Narnia. He turned the page and saw on one side a black void had been painted while the other side had letters across it. He looked back up at the Princess Royal. "What is it?"

"A story of Narnia's birth. This version is an illustrated book meant for children."

Cor hesitated then asked, "Are you going to read it to me?"

"No," came the simple reply. Princess Alambiel smiled again. "You are going to read it to me."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are." She then handed him two scrolls. "But first we must plant the seeds."

"What are these?"

Princess Alambiel touched the scroll he held in his left hand. "This is the alphabet. And, this," she touched the scroll in his right hand, "shall be your practice scroll. Now come along. We can use one of the solariums."

He didn't know what that word meant but he did recognize she was leaving as proved by the fact she was heading to the door. "Wait! What are we using it for?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "To begin your lessons, of course. You do wish to learn, don't you?"

Cor nodded fervently. "More than anything."

Princess Alambiel smiled. "Good. That is just what I need to hear. Now hurry up. I have an hour before I must meet with the royals, the grown up royals that is, and see what's next on the agenda. Never you mind what I mean. It's reserved for grown-ups. Now come on, Cor, if you really want to learn."

He hurried after her as fast as his feet could carry him. By the time Princess Alambiel declared an end to their lesson time, Cor had learned ten letters and completed his first attempt at writing. He got ink everywhere but the Princess Royal never grew angry or mocked him. She only reassured him that these things happened to everyone. By the time the lesson was over, Cor was secretly hoping that Princess Alambiel would teach him all the time. No tutor could be as nice as she was, of that he was certain.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two: Plans Awry

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Plans Awry

9 Frostmoon 1014

Peter gazed at the markers on the map. Their efforts over the past two months were finally beginning to bear fruit. They had stymied the Giants' southern approach save for one central group. He wished they had been able to slay Culhwch in any of the past battles but the two-headed Ettin managed to stay one step ahead of them. Now, however, now they were almost ready for the final push. He could go home, they could all go home after almost seven months of fighting.

He pointed to the marker representing the Giants' main camp. "What if we use a strategy similar to Beruna? It's not often the Giants would be hit by boulders."

Oreius huffed. "Save for the fact that a number of them make a game of throwing boulders at each other."

"True." Peter stared at the map again. "But they are easily distracted at times. I suppose we could wait for them to celebrate harvest and catch them in their cups."

The Centaur did not immediately object to his proposal but the heavy silence didn't ever mean that Oreius simply agreed. Peter suddenly grinned. "It is a pity we don't have Kat to point out some ludicrous plan to exploit a weak spot we missed. The campaign would be over by now."

His General's mouth twitched at the corner although a full smile was not permitted to appear. "It would be swifter no doubt. However, we have no way of knowing when Borak will bestir himself and bring reinforcements. He might be provoked to move before the harvest feast. I believe it would be best-"

He cut himself off abruptly and Peter looked up to see the Centaur turn toward the tent opening. A Faun ran in and offered a hurried salute. "General Oreius, High King Peter, two of our scouts have returned with urgent news. There is an army of Ogres to west and the Giants are marshalling their forces."

Peter looked sharply at Oreius. "They finally got the Ogres involved."

The Centaur gave a curt nod as he added grimly, "And Culhwch means to take advantage of that distraction in order to press into Narnia. We must divide our forces to meet these threats."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three: Unexpected

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Unexpected

6 Frostmoon 1014

How in the world did he allow Susan to talk him into this? Another high tea for all the Archenlanders who had accompanied their party back to Cair Paravel. He had intentionally avoided them for as long as possible considering the ridiculous number of "eligible" young ladies who had decided to "accompany" Aravis. To keep her properly chaperoned, of course.

Ha! Some days he truly wondered if these women had any brains between their carefully groomed hair. And, Lucy had permitted this debacle! Edmund scowled as he stalked on to his doom. No doubt the girls had gotten the ridiculous notion that they should start matchmaking for him. As soon as he survived another high tea with the giggling girls and conniving matrons, he was going to get his sisters alone and put all thoughts of matchmaking out of their heads if it killed him (which was possible considering how determined Su and Lu were when they put their heads together).

He strode into the Queens' sitting room (the largest one in the Cair, naturally) and immediately wished he hadn't been late. All eyes turned to him. Reminding himself that he was a man who would turn twenty-four in just over a fortnight's time, Edmund went through the effort of forcing a polite smile and bowing slightly. "My apologies for being late."

Susan, ever the perfect hostess, immediately rose from the settee where she had been chattering with Lady Marsalla and another Archenlandish lady whose name he could not recall. Other than the lady's gaze always turned positively predatory when they were in the same room. His sister swept over to him, her smile never wavering as she reached up to adjust his crown. "You are not very late at all, brother. We have only just sat down to our refreshments." A hint of warning glimmered in her eyes that made him want to fidget when she added, "Pray, find a place to sit and enjoy the company."

No escapes were to be tolerated, it would seem. Edmund suppressed a sigh as he surveyed the gathered ladies. Why did women always outnumber men at these high teas? Susan was definitely trying to play matchmaker again.

A burst of giggles caught his attention and Edmund searched the room until he spied Lucy standing in a corner with Tarrin Peridanson and Mr. Tumnus and his shy wife, Harmonia the Apple Dryad. He took a step to join them only to feel a pluck at his sleeve.

Mentally sighing, Edmund forced a pleasant expression on his face as he slowly turned to face his new tormenter. A young lady with rubies and diamonds dripping off her ears and throat batted her long sooty lashes as him. She glanced over his shoulder, turning her head just so and causing the candlelight to catch and add fire to the rubies threaded through her black hair, before turning a very practiced smile on him. Yet, the smile never reached the cool calculation in her green gaze. "Oh, King Edmund, I had so hoped to see you again. After all, you were very naught when you ignored me at the last banquet."

He had met her before? One would think he'd remember the shark in very fine (if impractical for autumn's cooling temperatures) silk. Edmund forced himself to be as courteous as Peter would have been as he bowed his head. "Forgive me, lady, I seem to have given offense unknowingly."

Another practiced smile. The young lady placed one hand on his arm as she stepped closer than was usually permitted for an Archenlandish lady of good breeding, still smiling and eyes still hunting. "Permit me, Your Majesty, to congratulate you on your heroic defense of Anvard."

"Were you in the city during the siege, lady?"

She batted her lashes again as she gave a little laugh. "Oh no. I was at my father's estates. However, I heard much of your dashing courage and heroic defense of the gates. Why you even fought that filthy Calormene to a surrender."

Edmund barely resisted rolling his eyes at the insincere flattery. And, really did the girl not know how to put a sentence together without using 'heroic defense?' "You should not put such stock in rumors and tales, lady. Your own good king and his men were perhaps the most heroic of us all."

A flash of temper at his correction appeared and vanished so quickly that he would have missed it if he had not been looking for it. Then she smiled prettily at him, cocking her head slightly to the right. "Oh, you are too gracious, Your Majesty. Here," she abruptly thrust a teacup into his hand, "I poured some for you. You must be terribly thirsty and famished."

He was but he rather doubted the little cakes and biscuits Susan had arranged for the tea would do anything to take the edge off his appetite. Nevertheless, he forced himself to raise the dainty teacup. Blech, tepid and with far too much sugar and cream. He lowered the cup as quickly as he could without being _too_ rude. The girl was still standing too close for comfort.

Edmund cleared his throat, scanning the room for some safe haven from this husband hunter, but it seemed everywhere was crowded with hopeful hunters waiting for their chance to nab him.

"Are you ignoring me again, Your Majesty?"

He glanced down in time to see the girl pouting at him in a way that could have been fetching had her cold green eyes not glittered with merciless hunger. He bowed slightly. "You must forgive me, lady. I am much preoccupied at the moment with my own thoughts. I am a very poor companion, indeed. I thank you for tea. However, I'm afraid I have been summoned. Pray excuse me."

Edmund hurried away, slipping free of the girl's claws before she could force him to escort her back to her seat (wherever that was). Not the most polite and both Susan and his etiquette tutors would have fits if they had seen him. He glanced over his shoulder. The girl had vanished and Susan was speaking with one of her ladies-in-waiting.

Not wanting to be caught again yet knowing Susan would make him escort the most odious of their female guests to the banquet tonight if he left so soon, Edmund came to a quick decision. He deposited the tepid tea on a small table and then worked his way to the far corner of the room, which was partly obscured by the tall, tiered stands of refreshments on a long table. Maybe he could avoid any more velvet and silk-clad sharks from tracking him down. He backed into the corner and then stiffened at the sound of a soft 'oh.'

He reluctantly turned and then immediately forgot his displeasure as he stared down into a pair of brown eyes that were rather breathtaking with their warmth. A young woman gazed up at him for a long moment and then she ducked her head, allowing him to see only her dark red hair.

Edmund barely recalled his manners before he embarrassed himself further by staring at the girl. He swallowed hard and then stepped back as he offered his most courtly bow. "Forgive me, lady. I did not mean to intrude upon your sanctuary." He glanced past the refreshments and then winced as he spied the silk-clad shark from before.

"Perhaps it would be best if you continued to hide from Adele here, King Edmund."

He glanced sharply at the young woman only to find she was standing up now, no longer seated on the little window bench. She was also blushing as she looked up at him before she ducked her head again, hiding her face once more. She was a little thing, only coming up to his chest, but she also possessed a distinctly feminine figure. She was pretty. No, Edmund corrected himself as he recalled the glimpse of warm brown eyes and a slight dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, no, she was as beautiful as a fire sprite.

He cleared his throat. "You are familiar with her?"

"All she has spoken of when among the ladies of her homeland has been how she intends to win a crown for herself." She paused almost as if she were questioning herself and then she added in a breathless whisper, "Do be careful that she doesn't catch you alone, my lord."

He smiled, not even knowing why other than her concern was sweet, if misplaced. "Don't worry, after fourteen years, I dare to say that I'm quite accomplished at avoiding an ambitious lady's noose. You are also from King Lune's court?"

She darted a glance up at him, allowing him to catch a brief glimpse of wide, brown eyes. "I have been in King Lune's court, Your Majesty."

Edmund nodded then took one of her hands in his and bowed over it with enough grace to almost give Peter a challenge. "Then, please permit me to welcome you to Cair Paravel, lady. Might I know the name of the one who is gracious enough to share her refuge with me?"

There was no answer. Edmund looked up puzzled. His puzzlement turned to dismay as tears filled the brown eyes, extinguishing their warmth. "My lady?"

The girl pulled her hand free of his light grasp. She dipped a curtsey, her dark green skirts spread wide, as she murmured, "Pray excuse me, Your Majesty, I fear I have… I have forgotten a previous appointment. Forgive me."

Edmund stepped aside but followed behind as the young lady practically fled his presence. She whisked out the door. Then Tarrin suddenly dashed after her.

Edmund's brow furrowed. After four years of painful awkwardness, he had been certain Tarrin was finally beginning to gather his courage to request permission to court Lucy.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Lucy appeared at his elbow. "Edmund, do you know what upset Raisa?"

"Raisa?" He repeated numbly, feeling an absolute dunce. His gaze returned to the empty door, unmindful of the chatter flowing around them. That was Raisa? He remembered a redheaded girl who chattered all the time. The poised young lady he had met today had nothing in common with that girl…save for her red hair (though that had darkened from what he remembered) and her wide, brown eyes. "I thought she was in Sisemaal. A lady-in-waiting for King Jukka's wife."

"Well, she's come home now." Lucy tugged on his sleeve, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes turned fierce even as her mouth formed a pout (Lu never could scowl properly). "You didn't say anything rude, did you?"

"No," he immediately protested.

Lucy just gave him a look before she went to chatter with Mr. Tumnus and Harmonia again. Edmund glanced once more at the door when Tarrin reappeared, but the young man was without his sister.

How exactly did one apologize for forgetting a girl's name? And, that she had lived in Cair Paravel for quite a while before her six years' absence? He wished he could ask Peter…

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8 Frostmoon 1014

Peridan nodded to Ptah as he approached Dame Sepphora's study. The Leopard blinked once but said nothing as he tapped on the door once and then entered without waiting for a summons. He had already spoken with Leeta when searching for the venerable Dame Sepphora earlier. The Nymph who served as both her lady-in-waiting and her chief assistant had attested that Dame Sepphora had no standing engagements or previous appointments this afternoon from second hour until teatime. It was only half past second hour.

He stopped short at the sight of the crown prince who was standing next to Dame Sepphora and studying the large map on her wall. The prince was pointing to the Great Desert but whatever question had been on the boy's lips died when Dame Sepphora turned to look at him. She raised an eyebrow. "Lord Peridan, what in the worlds have I done to earn such an unexpected visit?"

The faintly mocking tone made him grit his teeth. By the Lion, she grew more intolerable by the day when the General was not around to curb her. Still, he managed a polite nod. "I came to speak with you on a sensitive manner, Dame Sepphora." He bowed to the crown prince. "Prince Cor, pray forgive my intrusion. I was not told you had a lesson with Dame Sepphora."

Prince Cor looked questioningly between them. How different the boy was from his twin. Prince Corin would have been bouncing on his toes by now and loudly demanding to be told what secret they were trying to keep from him (when he wasn't threatening to box the secret out of them). Perhaps it was because Peridan himself was a father of twins that he usually had an easier time of telling the princes apart from a distance, but even Shane and Thane's personalities were not so pronounced in their differences. He wondered at Aslan's plan with the twin sons of King Lune.

"Princess Alambiel?"

She glanced down at the boy at her side and smiled. "I'm afraid our discussion about your journey through Calormen and Archenland shall have to wait, Cor."

Peridan looked at his boots to hide the frown that always sought to spring into being when Dame Sepphora lost all sense of formality.

She ignored him as she handed the crown prince two scrolls. "Now, remember, I want you to practice your letters and your handwriting. I would like to see two lines completed when we meet tomorrow before lunch. After lunch, we shall come back here and you may continue showing me where you traveled on your journey."

"Yes, Princess Alambiel. Thank you, Princess Alambiel. Bye." The boy nearly stumbled over his words as he rushed toward the door, forgetting to acknowledge Peridan on his way.

Peridan looked up to meet the dame's laughing gaze. He opened his mouth but the words stumbled to a halt when she held up her hand. The door opened again and he turned to see Prince Cor red-faced as he bobbed a rather unpolished bow. "Your pardon, Lord Peridan, and goodbye."

Dame Sepphora's soft laugh flowed over Peridan's ears and even he could not quite hide his grin as he turned back to her. She grinned. "Etiquette is hard."

A slow smirk crept into being as he nodded. "At least he is making the effort." More than his twins made at times and, sadly, far more than Prince Corin made many times.

"True, true. He is eager to learn." Dame Sepphora turned back to the map, the lightness in her tone fading slightly as she asked, "So, have you come seeking the Princess Royal or the swordmaster?"

"The swordmaster."

She didn't bother to look at him as she sighed. "Lovely. Is this related to Cor or something else?"

Peridan frowned. "You are too informal with him."

"Oh for the love of the Lion, Peridan, that boy needs someone who is not imposing. Edmund and I are both working with him. I have him call me 'Princess Alambiel'. How is that too informal?"

Under different circumstances, he might have agreed with her but not in this case. There was too much at stake. "He's being too open. In Anvard, the court intrigue-"

"Won't be able to gobble him up alive if he has the confidence he needs to stand on his own two feet." She abruptly walked around him to reach her desk, picking up a file and flipping through it before setting it down on another pile. She sat down and gestured to the chair directly across from her. "Cor needs a safe haven. He needs patient teachers. He needs to feel safe. That child has been under Susan and Lucy's mothering care for almost four months now and he's still skin and bones. You are a father. If Cor was your son, would you be more worried about his court manners or whether he knows he is safe?"

Peridan pursed his lips together as he met her gaze. He knew what answer he wanted to give, the same one she expected. He shifted his weight and then sighed as he finally took the indicated seat. "Prince Cor is not my son and as the crown prince he has very different responsibilities and expectations."

"Those will be addressed." Dame Sepphora smirked. "When the time is right." Then she leaned forward slightly, her tone gently inquiring but he detected the thread of immovable certainty beneath her words that more than proved she had made up her mind on the matter. "Don't you think the adjustment is severe enough without piling political intrigue on top? I do believe that's why Lune sent Cor here in the first place."

No amount of persuasion would sway her now. "Just…don't wait too long." Peridan allowed a silence to fall as he studied the woman before him. Save for the light in her eyes that testified she had seen and experienced much grief, she looked much as she had the day they had first met when she had been in her early twenties. The dark gold hair with two white streaks remained unchanged save for the fact that now she would wear it loose…at least when her husband was home. Today it was twisted and pinned into a chignon. He glanced back at her blue eyes. Marsalla had commented on the fact that the Princess Royal's eyes had ceased to smile in recent years. He knew that he did not always see eye to eye with her, sometimes to his detriment, but even he would never have wished the grief Dame Sepphora had experienced in the last four years. However, an old grief was not enough to excuse the failure to fulfill her duty. "Why are you still here?"

"It's my study."

"That is not what I meant."

Dame Sepphora's friendly expression vanished and a hint of fire leapt into her blue eyes. Her tone, however, remained surprisingly cool and steady with only the hint of a thickening accent warning that her temper had been kindled. "Go on, Peridan, we're both adults and we are currently alone. Tell me what you're really thinking. Speak plainly so I don't have to do so much guesswork."

Peridan gripped the arms of the chair, just barely keeping himself from standing, as he nodded curtly toward the map and its various markers. "You've kept close track of the campaign for a woman who has refused to fulfill her duty."

"Are you accusing me of shirking my duty, Peridan?"

"You were supposed to have gone north."

Her eyes narrowed but he still saw the flash of battle in their depths. "I believe you were present when Corin and your sons caused the accident that ended _that_ particular plan."

"You should have left for the north when your knee was healed."

"I have been charged with Thalia's safekeeping. That doesn't end just because I'm able to get about without using a cane." She leaned forward once more, her gaze steady. "And, for the record, even if I could leave now, it wouldn't do any good. The campaign is nearing its end."

"The General told you this?"

She leaned back in her chair again. "No. Not in so many words. But with winter bearing down on us and even faster in the north, the campaign will have to be brought to an end soon. Peter and Oreius won't risk losing soldiers to starvation and the elements if they can help it."

Peridan shook his head. "So, you are willing to spread false hope as your excuse for not completing your original duty."

"I'm sorry. Did you miss the whole part where I explained I was charged with Thalia's safety?"

"You let her leave Cair Paravel at a time when she should have remained here where she was protected. To make matters worse, you did not even leave her with a proper guard!"

"Have you ever tried to attack a Wood god in his home grove? It's not exactly a walk in the gardens." In a heartbeat, there was a small dagger in her hand. She waved it at the map. "Most do not even know where Vidar's grove is located."

"That does not mean anything. It would only take one ax to-"

"Oh Peridan, really." Dame Sepphora hurled the dagger at the heavily scored and notched side of the bookshelf nearest the map. The dagger impacted with a dull thud. Peridan didn't ease his grip on the chair arms until she turned back to him with just a hint of humor reappearing in her blue gaze as she observed, "That's almost paranoid enough to be something the Kentauri would say."

He scowled. She was not taking the matter seriously enough. "And, what had the General to say when he learned you had permitted the Princess Consort to leave Cair Paravel's protection during a time of crisis?"

"Nothing at all."

He raised both eyebrows at that, honestly struggling to think the extremely protective Centaur who had always taken his duty to the royal family with utter seriousness would deem the venture wise.

Dame Sepphora's eyes twinkled with mischief as she continued simply, "I never told Oreius about Thalia's changed location. Sensitive information, you know, and with Edmund's restrictions in place… Well, I didn't see a need to highlight Thalia's departure from the Cair. Nor do I see this conversation as very relevant considering Thalia's been home for over a fortnight now."

"I mention it because it highlights another area where you have shirked your duty."

"Oh don't be so boring, Peridan." Dame Sepphora opened a folder and began flipping through the pages, although he suspected she was not truly reading the report it held. "Thalia needed to spend time in her home grove. She needed to spend time with her parents and sister. Being separated from Peter has been very hard for her, especially since none of us expected the campaign to last this long. Spring, summer, autumn, and shortly it will be winter. Actually, it's already snowing in the north." She glanced at him. "Don't make the same mistakes as before, Peridan. If I thought for a minute that my journeying north would do any good at all, I would go as fast as I could to join them. While you do not care for my methods, you should know by now that I will protect the people in my charge."

He opened his mouth and then closed it. His limbs trembled slightly with the unspoken frustration that nothing he could say would make her see how she had missed an opportunity. Nothing he could say would come across as anything more than a belligerent fool's argument. Peridan rose and then offered a stiff but still courteous bow. "Pardon my intrusion, Dame Sepphora, it would seem you have your reasons for neglecting your previous agreed-upon duties."

Dame Sepphora watched him unblinkingly then she nodded. "Go away, Peridan. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and spend the time with your family? I understand Raisa has returned home."

He offered a curt nod and then left without another word passing his lips. As he strode down the corridor, Peridan's gaze was drawn to a window positioned so it looked north. _Aslan, let our army return home soon._

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9 Frostmoon 1014

The wind was cool against her cheeks as she walked through the silent memorials. The only sounds she heard were her own breaths, the rustle of her skirts on the ground, and the soft thud of paws just behind her. No one was out here now the weather had turned somewhat unpleasant with a storm promising. And that was for the best. She didn't want anyone to witness what happened when she came here.

The first time she had come out here, she had worn black. Oreius had let her, knowing it was one of the few ways she could permit herself show her grief outside the privacy of their quarters. When they made the annual visit, she always wore somber colors and usually wound up crying in Oreius' arms before day's end. This year she had not gone on the anniversary. She hadn't been strong enough to go without her Kentauri (not to mention her knee had still been acting up) and it had taken her months to come here now. Leeta (or Tuulea or both) had hidden her black dress and, in truth, even she knew that having the General's wife don black would be demoralizing to those who continued to wait. Instead, she had compromised with a dark blue velvet gown with gold underskirt revealed by tying back the front panel. Not mourning, but somber enough to suit her present mood and task.

She shivered as she entered the memorial set aside for those who died too young. For a fleeting moment, she wished she had Oreius' strength and warmth to turn to but she didn't. She hesitated as she neared the bench. Yet she forced herself to go on, to walk past the bench and the flowers that decorated so many of the little plaques, until she came at last to the plaque with the name that was carved just as deeply on her heart, _Amatus_.

The Kentauri had chosen the name for their lost colt. It meant 'beloved'. Her eyes burned with unshed emotion as she gently cleared away the leaves covering the plaque. Her fingers traced the letters and her strength left her. Alambiel collapsed to her knees, one hand still touching the plaque, and bowed her head as the tears she had been restraining continued to burn in their attempt to escape. Covering her face with her free hand, she took a shaky breath before forcing the tears back.

Blinking rapidly, she cleared her watery vision and once more looked at her son's name. She slowly traced the letters of his name, not wanting to break but knowing she needed to speak at least some of the emotions. A quick glance over her shoulder proved Ptah was sitting at the entrance to the memorial with his back to her. The Leopard was providing her with privacy even as he guarded against intruders. She turned back to the plaque. "Oh my little Amatus, I-"

Emotion choked her, defying her ability to speak, and she wished with all her heart that Oreius were there with her. She needed his strength whenever she tried to face this part of her past. It was worse than the scars left by the Monster or Heikki, worse than the raw terror and uncertainty she had felt when her memories had been stolen, so much worse. Alambiel drew another shaking breath and forced herself to talk some more. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry I didn't come on the anniversary but your da wasn't here, still isn't here, and it's hard for me to come without him. Your mama's a coward about this part." She sniffed as wetness trickled down her cheek. "I miss you so much. I wish- I wish I had been able to hold you even once. I wish I had felt your first kicks. I wish I had seen- But I lost you too soon. I will never forget you, Amatus, never."

She smiled through her tears as she gave a bitter laugh. "My baby, you would have been almost three right now, getting ready to enter school for the first time with the other Centaur foals. You and Solon would have been the best of friends and kept me on my toes, I'm sure of it. I don't know what you would have looked like exactly but I'm sure you looked most like your da. Dark like him and a fierce little warrior." Emotion choked her again but she forced herself to go on, "Da would be here if he could be, Amatus, but he's still in the north, fighting Giants, keeping Peter safe, and working to make sure all of Narnia is safe. I wish-"

She stopped, unable to give voice to that haunting wish, that she still had her son and that she'd be like so many of her friends who were expecting new additions to their family. Much as it shamed her to think it while she yet visited the grave of her lost child, Alambiel envied the women around her who were going to give their husbands children. When the soldiers on campaign returned, over half of them would find newborns or very expectant wives waiting to greet them. Alambiel pressed a hand against her flat stomach and wished it were different. She was tired of envying of the others even as she celebrated with them, she was tired of having an empty home, and she was tired of only having broken dreams and regrets.

A twinge of conscience pricked her at that dismal thought. Alambiel looked down at her left hand, at the rings Oreius had placed on her hand over five years earlier. She touched the betrothal ring on her left index finger and then the wedding band on her ring finger and a little smile appeared. "Not every dream was broken." She sighed, feeling the threat of tears again, and picked up the bouquet of flowers she had dropped earlier. Baby's breath and forget-me-nots for the little baby she would never forget, rosemary for remembrance, and pink roses for a mother's love. Alambiel stared at the flowers for a long moment before she carefully placed the bouquet in the little vase beneath the plaque. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and then placed the kiss against her son's name. "I will always love you, Amatus."

She didn't say anything else but she didn't leave right away either. Peridan's accusations from the day before still haunted her. The reasons she had given him were valid ones but it seemed there were few who truly understood why she had remained in Cair Paravel after Edmund and Lucy had returned, relieving her of the charge to keep Susan safe. Even Alithia had slipped that morn and asked _when_ she planned to go north. If Alambiel were perfectly honest with herself, she would have left as soon as Edmund and Lucy returned no matter that she'd be late catching up to the campaign. Yet, she had stayed put for two very simple reasons—Cor and Aravis.

Thunder rumbled overhead. She looked up at a sky that had grown dark and angry just as the first raindrops began to fall. She rose and mutely brushed the dead leaves from her skirts. Ptah was still waiting. The rain fell harder and she was glad for it as it disguised her tears.

"My lady?" Leeta's quiet question was the first thing she heard when she finally reached her own quarters. Alambiel glanced over at the Nymph. Black eyes filled with concern and just a hint of dismay as she surveyed her sopping appearance but, when Alambiel didn't answer, the Nymph said nothing else. She hovered even after Alambiel had changed out of her soaked clothes, bathed, and donned a new gown. Leeta seemed to be debating broaching a topic, probably about whatever princess duties she had ignored or forgotten (although those didn't matter since she had finished Cor's lesson for the day), but then she apparently changed her mind. "I will bring you something warm to drink and eat."

Alambiel said nothing and the Nymph nodded once then hurried out of the bedchamber. She heard the soft murmur of words passing between Ptah and Leeta before the outer doors shut with a distinct thud. Alambiel closed her eyes with a sigh. No doubt, she would be getting a visit from Tuulea before day's end.

She shook her head and opened her eyes again, studying her reflection briefly in the dressing table mirror. She didn't look so bad as she usually did after visiting the memorial. Probably because she hadn't been able to permit herself to break down completely…Oreius wasn't there to pick up the pieces.

She got up from her dressing table and went back to the chore she had started last night. Her journals from the past five years were still strewn across one side of the bed. She had gone through the older ones in an attempt to comfort herself after she had finished reading all of Oreius' letters from the campaign. Gathering the journals, she carried them over to her wardrobe. The topmost journal fell landing facedown on the floor. Alambiel put the rest of the journals in the appropriate drawer next to her older (and completely full) sketchbooks before she retrieved the fallen journal. As she picked it up, she noticed a letter had been left behind.

Alambiel picked the letter up and turned it over. An unbidden smile appeared as she read the bold words.

 _To the former suitors of Princess Alambiel, Princess Royal of Narnia,_

 _I am General Sir Oreius Cyneward of Narnia and the Princess Royal is my wife. It is my understanding that she has made it clear for over a year that she is in a committed, exclusive relationship. You refuse to listen and continue to harass her with marriage proposals._

 _Princess Alambiel is my wife. I do not share and she has no desire to share me. We will not end our marriage. You will not proposition my wife again. This will cease. If it does not cease, I will pay whichever of you dares to proposition my wife again a personal visit. The proceeding discussion will be unforgettable to your healers._

 _Cease your harassment at once or I will find you._

 _General Sir Oreius Cyneward_

Only her Kentauri could manage to be absolutely formal and still as intimidating as all get out. She smoothed out the letter and then carefully returned it to the journal. The first months of marriage had been rocky for them as they struggled to figure out how best to mesh their very independent lives into one. It didn't help that Oreius went into a paranoid overprotective silent mode…or that she had brought home a sorcerer. Oreius had written to the idiots who had persisted in harassing her after he had defended her against his own great-aunt, the matriarch of his mother's herd. Alambiel smiled more as she remembered the number of marriage proposals had dropped abruptly after Oreius' warning had time to reach all of the stubborn men still attempting to pursue her. The Kentauri had been extremely smug when she told him of the sudden deficit.

She prayed the campaign would end soon and that her Kentauri would come home safe.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four: Enemies Abound

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Enemies Abound

9 Frostmoon 1014

A wicked smile curved Morrigan's lips as she watched the small figures of the Narnian army divide their strength. Everything was going exactly as she had planned. Despite Culhwch's continued defiance and his murder of her two spies in the Ettin camp, even he had not been able to fully spoil her plans. Macha continued to warm his bed and would remain a distraction for the Ettin. Morrigan had instructed her to be such a distraction. Grog was a weak leader and after they conquered Narnia she would eliminate him but until then she needed Grog to remain in charge of the Ettins.

Her cool gaze returned to the Narnians below. She was too far to make out the golden king or the dark freak who had murdered her son but she imagined their despair to know that the Ogres were joined to the Giants of the North. She had given the Ogre king and his chief warlords special instructions to capture the Son of Adam and the Centaur if they encountered them.

It would not be much longer. Already the whirling snows covered the northern lands, hiding Ettinsmoor's barren landscape. The temperatures were dropping rapidly, soon the thin blood of the Narnians would turn on them and leave them to freeze solid in the northern lands' cruel winter. If they lasted that long.

"My Queen!"

Morrigan turned slowly to see a stooped Giant with a long scar down the left side of his face. "Morag, what news?"

Morag's scar pulled his grin into a grimace but his eyes gleamed with fiendish delight. "Borak prepares the rest of our kin. They will march to the meeting place on the morrow."

She looked back out over the Narnian army. A slow smile appeared as the wind and snow whipped around her. "Good. Prepare our soldiers. It is nearly time."

Soon. She would avenge her murdered children, the ones she had trained to save their race. Very soon now. Her revenge would be complete and then she would conquer Narnia and complete the work that the Witch had long ago promised and failed to deliver to their people.

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Culhwch grunted as he tightened the straps of his armor. "Are you certain?"

Macha glanced sideways at him but didn't cease to comb her hair with the antlers he had given her as a reward for pleasing him. The long black locks were barely tamed when she pulled them back with the leather tie decorated with the bones of the Narnians they had feasted on during the campaign. "Morrigan is certain. She says the storms will grow worse and quickly."

He scratched at the chin of his second head. "Did you see her send to the north?"

"Morrigan hates the witches. She has always hated the witches."

True. Yet, he wondered if Morrigan's thirst for revenge and power had grown to the point that even she would deal with one of the witch-women. Though none were as powerful as Jadis, they were still formidable. They were the ones who taught magic to the Hags. They were the ones who had long been repelled by the Narnians and their demon lion until Jadis conquered the little country of riches. But then she used her own magic to keep out her kin.

Culhwch put on his helmets and then tightened his sword belt. After the battle, he would send Macha to spy. He did not want any of the witch-women involved. They never proved faithful. Deception was their preferred trade and they were quicker to curse their ally than to help.

He marched out of his tent. He would deal with Morrigan and any witch-women later. Now, it was time to put an end to the Narnians.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five: Deception

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Five: Deception

The roar of battle filled Peter's ears over the harsh sound of his breathing. He raised his shield, grunting as the Ogre's mace struck it with enough force to make his entire arm shake. Peter lunged. Rhindon bit through the gap in the side of the Ogre's armor, sinking through flesh and fat before puncturing lung and heart. The Fell creature dropped with a half-strangled cry.

Peter leapt over the Ogre's prone form. Scanning the battlefield, he noted that the Ogres were being routed. Many of the smaller ones had already thrown down their weapons and fled to the west. He blinked as sweat stung his eyes. Then a soft cry caught his attention. He spun, searching for the source.

A large Ogre, heavily armored and armed with a pikestaff, was menacing a Nymph archer. Her bow was gone and her quiver empty. She looked up at the Ogre with a mix of terror and resignation.

Fury surged through Peter's veins, pounding in time with his heart. He would not let another of his people die. A hoarse war cry escaped his throat as he charged, racing up one of the rocky shelves and jumping at the Ogre. The Fell creature fell back a step as Rhindon sheared the pikestaff in two. Then he laughed. It was a harsh, grating laugh, not as odious as the Giants' laughter, but still it made Peter grit his teeth.

He lunged forward, ducking under the Ogre's wild swing. The broken pikestaff whistled overhead. Peter stabbed Rhindon into the Ogre's leg. The Ogre cursed as his leg crumpled but Peter didn't give him time to react further. Taking advantage of the slight gap between helmet and chestplate, he buried Rhindon in the Ogre's almost non-existent neck.

He heard the horns sounding victory and the triumphant roars and cheers of the Narnian soldiers as he turned back to the archer. Shoving his faceplate up, Peter quickly held out a hand to her. "Are you all right?"

The Nymph ducked her head in a slight nod. "I do not think my injuries are severe." A fierce light stirred in the depths of her green eyes as she spied the broken pieces of her bow. "However, I will have to replace my bow before I am able to fight more of these creatures."

Peter smiled slightly. "The day is won, lady. Let us enjoy the victory while it lasts."

He walked the length of the battlefield, finding the wounded (though their numbers were mercifully small this time), when Bast called to him. When he met the Tigress' gaze, she nodded to a Centaur galloping full speed toward them. "Ardon," he called as soon as the Centaur drew near, "what is it?"

The bronze Centaur's expression was grim as he responded tersely, "We just received a Hawk from the General's troops. They yet fight the Ettins but a group of twenty Harfangers has ambushed them, cutting off all ways of retreat. Oreius is hard-pressed."

The slightest tickle of fear ran down Peter's spine as he realized they could already be too late. The Giants had indeed laid a trap. He forced the fear away as he met the captain's eyes with determination. "Gather the troops, Captain. We must move fast if we hope to be of use to the General."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six: Letters from Home 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Letters from Home 5

 _Oreius,_

 _This has been a hard week. Harder than I expected for so many reasons that I can't tell you in a letter. I went to see him today and it hurt so much…_

 _Ignore the tearstain, Kentauri, I'm fine. Really I am. I wish we were together but I am fine._

 _The Cair is in an uproar again. Mischief-making twins did things to various people. I'm told there was a toppled cake involved. Don't worry, I've been protecting your armory (even though you don't always deserve it). Edmund stuck his foot in his mouth two days past. You remember Raisa, don't you? It seems your colt didn't though and apparently embarrassed the poor girl to tears. I think we're all waiting to see what he does to make this up to her (the most entertaining thing that happened at breakfast was watching Susan and Lucy gang up on him to scold because he still hadn't managed to apologize). And_

 _I know we are not supposed to reveal too much in our letters. I know we are each needed where we are now and shouldn't risk changing that. Nevertheless, I have to say this now. I miss you. I miss you so much and I wish we were together then maybe I could rest easy that you haven't gotten yourself in the sort of trouble you can't come back from. I love you, Oreius, please remember that and fight to come home. You do not have my blessing for any suicide plans. Remember your promise. You're supposed to bring my mother's necklace home and you're supposed to place it in my hand yourself. No couriers allowed._

 _Be safe. Come home soon._

 _I love you._

 _Alambiel_

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 _My dearest Peter,_

 _The words I wish to say defy expression. They are like the wind that teases the fresh buds of spring, bidding them to unfurl then vanishing again before I can capture it. Come home, Peter, come home so that we may no longer talk guardedly. We need you here, my love. Much is changing, I- I cannot say more, though. Your brother has made that very clear._

 _Oh, my strong oak, stand tall in the storm and weather it all. My mother and Vedis have come to stay the winter in Cair Paravel. I could not persuade my father to do so. He insists the soldiers you always offer to protect the grove are incompetent. But he might come for Christmas. I think he misses you too. Although, he only asked once if I had heard from my "human."_

 _I am expected at a private dinner with your siblings. I will write soon._

 _Be carful._

 _All my love,_

 _Thalia_

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 _Peter,_

 _I could use some good advice, brother mine. I'm sure the girls have already ratted me out but I freely admit that I erred. Remember Raisa? The red-haired, freckly pipsqueak of a chatterbox who was a know-it-all? Well, she's returned to Cair Paravel and I didn't recognize her. I even asked if this was her first time in our court! All right, all right, stop laughing you great lummox._

 _Look, I would have apologized to her already but now the lady is taking pains to avoid my company. And, don't say that I deserve it. The girls have already scolded me within an inch of my life for upsetting Raisa. I think Peridan and Tarrin would do the same except for it wouldn't be proper and Raisa hasn't accused me outright of anything. Yes, I know I'm supposed to be the diplomatic one but how was I supposed to recognize the demure young lady with warm brown eyes as RAISA?_

 _Just stop laughing and tell me how to make it up to the girl. You've been married six years and Vidar hasn't killed you yet so you must be better at keeping Thalia from getting upset (aside from poisoning her with your cooking). Surely, you have some advice I can actually use._

 _Edmund_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven: Peril, Prayer

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Peril, Prayer

"Look out!"

The warning cry echoed through the air before a dark shape appeared through the whirling snow. Soldiers scattered as a boulder crashed against the mountain's side. Smaller rocks and debris broke loose, pelting them. Oreius ignored the sting of the rocks that cut into his skin wherever his armor did not protect him. He narrowed his eyes against the swirling snow. The snowfall was a liability. It was thick enough and windy enough to make it difficult to discern the Giants easily.

"Feast! Feast!" The ugly chant was carried on the wind. More Giantish voices took up the chant. "Feast! Feast! Break their bones! Grind them into bread!"

Oreius tightened his grip on his twin swords. The Ettins' courage had been bolstered with the ambush carried out by the Harfangers. He scanned the battlefield. The leaders of the Giants were being smarter this time. They had stopped just beyond the reach of the arrows to hurl boulders and tree trunks at his forces. The Ettins had begun to creep closer as his soldiers were forced to retreat and scatter with each barrage.

He needed them to make a mistake. He needed them to make several mistakes.

A brutish laugh filled the air and Oreius leapt to the side just as a cudgel crashed into the ground. Dirt and rocks flew up to pelt him even as he turned to face the newest threat. A Giant with two heads leered at him through the gathering darkness and swirling snow. But it was not Culhwch. The brute gave twin sneers as his small eyes narrowed with ugly glee.

The cudgel swung again.

Oreius charged. One sword sliced into the Giant's wrist, severing the tendons and weakening the fiend's grasp but not soon enough. The force of the blow was severely weakened yet Oreius still felt the crunch of bone beneath the cudgel as he was knocked sideways. Pain hazed his focus, threatening to steal what remained of his vision and breath, but he forced it away as he staggered back to readiness. He might have broken a few ribs that time.

Grimacing against the hot flare of pain along his ribs, Oreius charged his blubbering opponent. The Giant was distracted. It was the perfect moment to strike. Oreius raised his right hand as he galloped at the Giant. The Giant's second head turned suddenly, his pained expression replaced with fury. He had lost the advantage but he pressed on. The Giant was too near the archers who were protecting wounded soldiers to be left alive. Oreius let out a wordless war cry as he leapt forward, sword at the ready.

The Giant swatted at him but then gurgled and a death rattle emerged as he dropped to his knees, hand reaching for the sword buried deep in his throat.

Oreius struggled to maintain his balance as he landed heavily. The pressure on his ribs was a blazing inferno and the Giant's last attempt to stave off his attack had damaged his shoulder. Yet he knew he could not retreat again. There was nowhere else to go. He needed to rally the soldiers who could yet fight.

Night had fallen completely now and the moon was hidden behind the thick clouds, offering no light to those below. Oreius freed his sword from the Giant's corpse and hid a wince at the protest his shoulder offered even as he galloped to meet another threat. The Giants began to cheer. Oreius scanned the weary faces of those soldiers he could still see. A grim despair stared back at him as the Narnians heard the sound that cheered their foes. Horns. Reinforcements were arriving, be they Ogre or Giant.

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"Oreius," Alambiel gasped as she sat straight up in bed. Heart pounding, she instinctively scanned the room but no one else was there. Only then did she realize she was clutching a dagger. Lowering the blade, she tried to decide what had woken her. She had been dreaming of a battle. It wasn't the first time and she rather doubted it would be the last but a sense of dread swept over her again. She could not recall the details of the battle other than she had been trapped on the sidelines, watching helplessly as the one she loved was cut down by a Giant because he hadn't heard her warning cry.

Unable to simply lie back down and try to sleep, Alambiel dropped the dagger on the bedside table and got out of bed. Ignoring her robe, she walked to the balcony doors and pulled back the thick drapes. Torrents of rain greeted her view. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed, almost blinding, as she pushed the doors open and stepped out into the deluge. The rain struck her with a force that stung her skin but she ignored it as her gaze fixed upon the north. Grey rain, grey clouds, and grey fog all conspired to prevent her from seeing even as far as the Cair's walls. Nor could she see the sea though she heard the waves crashing beneath the sounds of the storm raging above.

Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. She could feel it and the knowledge shook her to her very core. She grabbed the railing, the slick marble providing an unsteady anchor in the storm, as she murmured, "Aslan, protect them. Save them. I don't know what happened but You do. Please bring them through this storm safely. Bring them home safe. Protect them from harm and preserve them from their enemies, Great Lion. Keep them safe between Your paws. Please, Aslan."

She whispered prayers throughout the storm, retreating back inside only when she finally became aware of her chilled state. Yet she never ceased praying. Something had gone wrong but that did not mean that Aslan had abandoned them. He would not abandon His children.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight: Last Charge

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Last Charge

"Narnia!" Oreius forced himself to raise his sword high, ignoring the pain in his shoulder the movement caused. "Narnia! Remember Aslan! He remembers you!" He reared, bellowing over the Giants' taunting cries, "For Aslan! For Narnia and for Aslan!"

"For Aslan!" came the thunderous reply. The soldiers' voices gained more strength as they roared, "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

The Giants only laughed. Oreius galloped to the center of the ridge in front of his soldiers and swung his sword to point at the barely detectable shapes of their Giant foes. Again he shouted, "For Aslan!"

"For Aslan!" Those soldiers who were not archers or badly wounded reformed the lines.

One last charge. At the very least, they would ensure that far fewer opponents remained for Peter and the rest of the army. Oreius reared once more, swords held steadily. He would not give the Giants the satisfaction of knowing they had wounded him or even begun to hamper his ability to fight. The Giants had begun to edge closer, no longer hurling boulders and various bits of debris. The Narnians' defiance had broken the careful control of the Fell. It would be a long battle, had already been a long battle, but it would be worthy.

Oreius glared through the blinding snow, silently defying the Giants to search out any sign of fear in his soldiers or himself. They were edging closer. Just a few more feet and they would be well within the archers' range. _Alambiel, forgive me._ He shook his head, clearing away the thought…the regret. A promise couldn't always be kept in war.

The horns sounded again. They were closer now. The Giants cheered and mocked. Oreius cast a silent prayer to the Great Lion. He could only hope that more of his soldiers would survive than not. One last charge.

Oreius reared. "For Aslan! And for Narnia!"

"For Aslan! And for Narnia!"

He leapt forward, galloping straight into the Giants. He heard the soldiers behind him crashing into Giants. The Giants' laughter turned to cries of pain and frustration. Oreius barreled into a Giant, ending the Fell creature's miserable existence, and then galloped to the next Giant. He darted to the side as the Giant buried his short sword in the icy soil. Ducking under the Giant's extended arm, he drove his left sword into the Giant's exposed midriff and then slashed the Giant's throat.

The snow and wind picked up speed as the storm raging around him worsened. It reminded him of the resistance's battles with Jadis' forces when she had turned the weather into a weapon. If the Giants had allied with a witch from the far North, things would go very ill indeed.

A looming shadow was his only warning. Oreius shook away the distracting thoughts as he dodged a spear thrust. The horns sounded again and the Giant before him laughed. Leering down at him, the Giant boasted, "Now we feast on you, horseyman! We feast!"

Oreius batted the spear away and darted forward to score a gash along the Giant's thigh. He missed the hamstring. He bit back his frustration and instead shouted, "For Aslan!"

"For Aslan!" the rally echoed among his troops.

"For Aslan!"

Oreius hesitated in his attack as he realized the faint cry had not come from any of his own soldiers. The move would have been fatal had not his opponent also hesitated. Then the cry came again, stronger now. "For Aslan!"

The horns blared but they were so close now that the near blizzard no longer distorted their clear tones. Not the harsh horns of the Ettins or Harfangers or even the Ogres, but the sweet, clear horns of Narnia!

The Giants faltered. Oreius gave a shout of triumph as he pressed his advantage. The Giant he had been fighting fell back several steps. He caught a glimpse of Peter astride a Unicorn as the Narnian reinforcements harried the Giants who had been closest to victory over the soldiers.

Then a harsh voice called through the storm, "Harfangers, take your prize!"

A group of three Giants burst out of the snow and dark, bearing down on the golden colt. Oreius crippled the Giant he had been fighting and then galloped toward Peter in a desperate attempt to intercept them. He wasn't fast enough. Peter and the Unicorn were fighting against one of the Giants. Bast and Babur charged out of the darkness to claw and bite at the second Giant. But the third remained unchallenged. There was none close enough to interfere. None save Oreius himself.

The terrible knowledge that the Harfangers had yet to give up their foul intent to force his colt to revive their bloodline swept over Oreius and gave him strength to gallop faster. He leapt over a fallen Giant, dodged the spiked club of another, and sliced through the hamstrings of two more as he neared the colt. The Giant Bast and Babur were fighting let out an oath as arrows cut through the air and embedded themselves in his thick skin. The other Giants were still undeterred although the one Peter and the Unicorn Firenze battled was beginning to weaken and drag one of his legs.

Oreius saw the second Giant pulling his arm back, hefting a pikestaff. He hacked through the haft before the weapon could pierce Firenze. The Giant shouted curses as Oreius continued his attack. He sliced through the Giant's left wrist, severing the tendons then he darted forward and slashed the Giant's thigh. The Giant stumbled but he did not fall.

Oreius remained between the Giant and his colt. The Giant leered. "Morrigan will have her prize and her revenge."

He did not deign to respond with words. Instead, he permitted cold steel to form his retort. The Giant collapsed to the ground, dark blood already covered by fresh snow. Oreius turned to check on his colt. The other Harfanger had also fallen. The colt seemed unharmed. All around them Oreius could hear the shouts of triumph from Narnian soldiers as the Giants continued to fall back.

Then a shadow broke through the swirling snow. There was no time to shout a warning. Oreius threw his whole weight against Firenze, forcing the Unicorn to carry his colt to safety. Something struck him. He vaguely heard Peter shouting. His thoughts flickered to Alambiel and how disappointed she would be just before darkness swept over him, snuffing out his awareness of the hot pain and freezing cold.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Muwhahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa!**


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine: Hidden Things

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Hidden Things

13 Frostmoon 1014

"You halfwit! How could you challenge him to ride an unbroken stallion? Again!" Aravis fumed as she cornered Prince Corin. She glared at the boy who was still grinning.

The halfwit didn't even realize the peril he had placed his own brother in. Again. He grinned at her and then had the audacity to wink as though she were some…some…some servant girl! "Oh stop your fussing, Aravis. It was brilliant! And he almost held on for a full five seconds this time." He pointed at where Shasta was sitting on the ground with Bree hovering over him even as that worthy Beast scolded him. "Look, he's conscious."

Aravis clenched her fists even though she longed to beat the boy about his ears. "Have you considered that if you end up killing your brother with these stupid dares, you will have to be king again?"

Now Corin finally looked worried. "Oi! Cor!"

Shasta raised his head, wincing as he did so. No doubt he felt the hammers of a thousand smiths against his skull. The fool deserved it! "I'm fine. I think. Ow!"

Bree snorted impatiently. "You weren't ready at all, you foolish little foal. You should have more sense than that dumb donkey we left behind in the fisherman's stable." He nosed Shasta's shoulder, ears twitching and his tail lashing his haunches when the action produced a sharp cry from the boy. "We should get you to a healer. No, don't move. I don't think humans are supposed to move after being tossed. I will find a healer and bring him to you. And the queens will want to know."

Aravis crossed her arms as she glared at both boys. Did Aslan not bless them with enough sense to sustain a flea? "Boys," she muttered as she stomped past them. Philip and Hwin had been quietly watching the whole exchange and she was certain they would be able to keep Shasta from doing anything else foolish, especially Philip since he often carried the Just King.

"Oi!" Corin called after her. "Oi! Wait for me!" She kept walking until he caught up with her, still grinning like a Tash-blighted fool. "Oh come on, Aravis. Cor needs to be tough. He'll walk it off."

She darted a glare at him, not that that had any effect on his merriment. "I'm sure Dame Sepphora will not share your view on the matter, O Prince."

The grin faded slightly and a hint of worry appeared in his blue eyes. In that moment, he looked far more like his twin. Then the carefree grin reappeared as Cor gave a little laugh. "Dame Sepphora is still in quarantine for her cold. She won't be handing out discipline to anyone."

Which was the entire reason Corin thought he could get away with daring his brother to ride a half-broken horse. Aravis fumed as she entered the castle but then she straightened as she caught sight of the dark-haired king. "King Edmund!" He turned toward them, his Wolves yipping in excitement until he shushed them. Aravis offered her best Calormene curtsey, desiring to make the best impression on the formidable warrior king. "If it pleases you, O Just King, and if it does not darken the sun in your eyes, I beg a word with you."

One dark brow rose as he looked from her to Corin. Then his lips twitched into the slightest hint of a smile before he offered a half-bow. "Very well, Lady Aravis, what may I do to help you? Ah, Corin, just where do you think you are going? You haven't finished escorting Lady Aravis."

Aravis folded her hands in front of her as she had seen the Queens, especially Queen Susan, do and quietly offered, "Perhaps he is going to check on his brother's injuries."

The faint amusement fled the Just King's face as he glared at Corin. "What did you do to Cor now? Tied him to an anchor?"

Corin laughed. "No, but that's a brilliant idea! I could-"

"Corin!"

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16 Frostmoon 1014

The tip of the quill hovered over the parchment, one drop of ink dropping down to blot the half-written name. Peter groaned as he set the quill back in the inkpot. He had been wrestling with how to explain everything that had happened for days now. It wasn't getting any better. Kat deserved to know. She needed to know what had happened that night.

Yet, the quill and ruined parchment merely mocked his inability to choose a few choice words. He far preferred giving this sort of news in person where he could explain exactly what had happened and in as many details as was desired or needed. Between Edmund's restrictions and his own hesitation, the task seemed utterly impossible. There had to be some way of breaking the news gently…only he couldn't think how.

Another groan escaped him.

"Did the meal disagree with you, sire?"

He jumped slightly, having forgotten that his Tigers were inside the tent. He met Babur's gaze and shook his head. "Only the task I'm faced with, I'm afraid. How in the worlds am I to explain this to Kat?"

The Tiger's green eyes widened slightly. "You still haven't sent word?"

Peter winced. "No. It's not exactly an easy thing to explain. Especially to someone like Kat."

The Tigers exchanged looks then Bast huffed. "It should be very easy, your majesty. Lay out the facts for her inspection and she will understand."

Peter's mind returned to the battle and the horror he had felt when the Giant had- He shook away the memory and ran both hands through his hair, tugging lightly. By Aslan, he wished it was so easy. He didn't want to be callous. Handling the matter the way Bast suggested had been his first thought but the moment he sat down to try and do so, his entire being had balked at the callousness of the act. Kat deserved better than that, she was his friend, his sister, aunt, and even mother. She definitely deserved more than a callous recitation of events. Besides he wasn't even sure if Edmund would tolerate such a blunt recital. Yet, writing to Kat with a simple disclosure that something had happened to her husband seemed cruel. He well remembered his anxiety and torment over the intelligence that Thalia was ill but with no details as to how ill or why she was ill. He certainly did not want to inflict that same anxiety on another.

Oh Aslan, what he going to do? He almost wished the storm would abate enough so he could take the news to Kat personally. That was the tactic she actually deserved. A face to face conversation wherein he could explain exactly what had happened to her husband and why. It was his fault that Oreius had placed himself in danger with no chance to defend himself, after all. He should have been more cautious. Perhaps then, this entire debacle wouldn't have happened.

The sides of the tent billowed inward and one of the hanging lanterns bounced with the force of the wind. Peter idly glanced up at them, still turning over words in his mind and rejecting every one of them. None of them were sufficient, many of them seemed cruel, and the rest trite. The entire army had hunkered down in their tents as the storm continued to rage. Only those Beasts built for such conditions maintained the watch, Bears, Tigers, Snow Leopards, and the like, while the rest of the army sheltered as best they could from the blizzard. It had been raging for a week now. He had heard the speculation among the older soldiers, veterans of the Long Winter, that the storm had been summoned by a witch or perhaps a very powerful Hag and now the spell was out of even her control.

The Giants had not made any movement toward the camp, which was some relief although now Peter worried the army would end up snowed in the mountains and canyons of Ettinsmoor. It certainly slowed the progress of their campaign to a crawl. A desolate sigh escaped him as he recalled how close they had been to an assured victory over the Giants. Between the weather, injuries, and loss of life, it would take at least another month or two before they regained that lost ground.

Shaking away the gloomy thoughts, he picked up the letter from Thalia. A Gryphon from the northernmost Narnian outpost had carried the mail this time. The storm had already grown too fierce for the smaller carriers to safely fly to them. Now even that worthy and the rest of the Gryphons were grounded as a precaution. Peter refused to lose any of his people to the weather when it could easily be avoided. Thalia's handwriting leapt out at him like a lifeline to hope. She needed him to come home. How he wished he could. One day he would happily turn south and put the ugliness of Ettinsmoor behind him, but it was not this day. He had already written his reply to her but it, like his reply to Edmund's frustrated letter, had to wait for the weather to clear or at least ease. A faint smile twitched his lips as he recalled Edmund's highly agitated letter. He wondered what the girls had been doing to his brother that he felt desperate enough to ask Peter for help with a young lady. He also wondered if the young lady in question had gotten under his brother's skin. The smile grew as he recalled teasing his little brother over his fondness for redheads.

The lantern overhead bounced more as a stronger gust of wind shook the tent, completely distracting Peter from his thoughts. However, the stakes didn't give away and, for now, Peter and his Tigers remained safe form the fury of the storm. He glanced at the Tigers who were whispering to each other and then forced himself to focus on his true task. He had to write Kat.

 _Dear Kat,_

 _I regret_

He paused, shook his head, and then vehemently struck through the words. Crumpling the parchment, he tossed it into the growing pile on the carpeted floor.

He tried again, wracking his brain for better words with which to explain the tale to Kat.

 _Dear Kat,_

 _It is my deepest regret that I must report your husband has been_

He muttered an oath under his breath as the quill slipped and a blossom of black ink appeared, obscuring half the words. Why was it so bloody difficult? He slashed through the remaining legible words and then crumpled the parchment. He hurled it on to the floor, watching with vicious satisfaction as it bounced twice before rolling to a stop underneath his hammock.

Just as he was about to try again, a blast of cold air and snow filled the tent as two cloaked figures emerged from the blizzard's gullet. Peter bit back a cry of surprise and dismay as he barely kept his papers from being swept off the table. The tent flaps were secured once more by the smaller of the two figures. His morose voice immediately picking up where the blizzard's howls had left off. "See? Now we're like as not to be executed for chilling the High King. He's liable to take sick and drop dead in this weather with his nose falling off too, like as not. Of course, he'll suffer horribly the entire time. Years and years' worth of pain and suffering as his limbs fall off one by one and his hair will fall out. The Princess Consort won't be able to bear the sight of him, like as not. Horrid way to go."

Peter rolled his eyes at the Tigers before he turned to greet the Marsh-Wiggle healer who had pushed back his hood, revealing his long sallow face. "Master Mumpwort, I assure you I'm feeling just fine. I doubt any permanent damage has been done."

The Marsh-Wiggle healer appeared to be entirely unconvinced as he shook his head slowly, his sallow face somehow growing even longer as he observed him morosely. Then he nodded. "A brave front, Your Majesty. It must be terrible to know you're liable to keel over dead at any moment now. Then, you'll swell up horrendously and not be able to breathe at all as your nose falls off and then your ears and your hands and arms. You'll probably go blind too, like as not. Years of misery and pain, Sire, years of it." He paused then added somberly, "I supposed it will be a slow execution too for my failure to keep any of you alive."

Peter bit back a laugh. He still wasn't certain why the Marsh-Wiggle healer had joined the campaign, considering he had been predicting its disastrous outcomes (nearly all of which involved the soldiers losing their limbs somehow) every day for the entire campaign. However, despite the Marsh-Wiggle's rather morose way of thinking and his ridiculously fatal diagnoses, he was a very capable healer. "Don't worry so, Master Mumpwort, if I should die of anything, I'm certain my brother will blame me and not you."

Mumpwort didn't look at all comforted. If anything, he looked more morose than ever (although Peter wasn't quite sure how he was managing it) as he sighed. "Then it will be Queens and the Princess Consort who choose my execution. Terrible way to go. Females are always harsher than males. It's just the way of things. They'll have me boiled and skinned, like as not."

The other cloaked figure let out a low impatient growl. "Enough, Mumpwort. You do their majesties a discredit with such tales."

Peter tensed as he recognized the gruff and somewhat hoarse voice. "My understanding was that the healers had sentenced you to complete bedrest."

The hood of the cloak concealed his other visitor's features from sight but he could still sense the reproving glare. Then, the visitor stiffly lowered his hood with his left hand. Oreius' stern features were drawn with the pain the Centaur could not quite hide as he walked forward, still limping slightly. "Ardon told me you were planning to send word to Alambiel."

Mumpwort didn't give Peter the chance to answer as he interrupted, "I told the General to stay still, Your Majesty, sure as you're sitting there. Told him his injuries are going to cause his death. Broken bones in this weather? It's a deadly combination, Sire, deadly. He'll lose that arm soon then his legs then all his hair will fall out as the medicine reacts poorly to a Centaur and eats him from the inside out. Dead by spring, like as not. The Princess Royal will chop me into little bits and feed me to eels, like as not, and then I'll cause a plague to wipe out Narnia."

Oreius glared at the Marsh-Wiggle. "Cease your prattling. It is neither accurate nor useful. And I do not know why you pursued me if you are so determined that I am to die no matter the healers' efforts."

Mumpwort blinked at him and then nodded solemnly. "To make sure his majesty's wrath only falls on me, of course. We need the other healers, though even they won't be able to keep patching everyone up for long, like as not. Dropping of exhaustion and then freezing to death in this blizzard. The Giants will likely step on us and crush us into some sort of foul seasoning, like as not."

Peter barely resisted laughing as he quickly cut in, "Thank you for your courage, Mumpwort. I shan't send you back into the storm, it's unfit weather for anyone after all, but I would ask that you allow me to speak privately with the good General for a few moments. Then I would like your full report on the General's condition."

He turned to Oreius as Mumpwort began examining Bast and Babur and loudly predicting that both Tigers' fur would fall out and lowered his voice slightly to address the Centaur. "You don't think she deserves to know?"

"I do not think Alambiel needs to know. There is a difference." Oreius' impassive look betrayed nothing as Peter looked at him sharply. The heavy, dark red cloak hid the bulkiness of the bandages and the sling currently binding the Centaur's right arm. But, Peter had seen what happened when the cudgel hit Oreius. He had seen the healers' silent anxiety as they worked over him.

"You almost died a sennight ago, Oreius. She deserves to know what happened and that you are still injured."

The Centaur didn't even blink as he reiterated, "She does not need to know. Do not interfere, Sir Wolfsbane."

"And if it had been reversed? If you were there and Kat had been severely injured, would you not want to know?"

"It is different. My injuries are not as severe as the healers originally presumed."

"Probably because you're hiding the signs," Peter muttered.

Oreius ignored him, which was probably a good thing. "I intend to write my wife myself. I will tell her what she needs to know. I respectfully request, High King, that you do not interfere in my marriage or how I communicate with my wife."

Peter hesitated then he sighed. "Fine. I haven't been able to find the right words to write her in any case. I can only imagine how hard it would have been to tell her you had perished."

The Centaur bowed his head slightly. "I thank you, My King. If you will excuse me, I shall take my leave of you now."

He would have protested but then he noticed how pale the Centaur looked. He nodded. "Of course, Oreius. Go and get some rest before you have all the healers up in arms over you escaping your sickbed."

As the Centaur ducked back out of the tent, vanishing into the blizzard, Peter turned to Mumpwort. The Marsh-Wiggle was telling Bast that her tail would fall off. He seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that the Tigress was near to biting him. Peter hurried to rescue him from himself. "Master Mumpwort? I am ready to hear the full report regarding General Oreius' injuries and the prognosis for his recovery."

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Oreius ignored the pain as he lowered himself to his bed and pulled out the letters from beneath his pillow. The latest one was what had motivated him to see his golden colt despite the healers' protests. He pulled it out once more and read the words. Alambiel had been in pain when she wrote it, no matter how she protested that she was fine. If she had gone to visit their colt…

Oreius closed his eyes as his strength began to fail him once more. He would write her in the morn but he would not mention his own injuries. She didn't need another burden added to that which she was already feeling. Strong as she was, he knew she would break if she feared him on the brink of death.

He listened to the blizzard howling around his tent. In a sense, the storm was a blessing from Aslan. Too many of their soldiers had been injured during the ambush to prove immediately up to the task of once again battling the Giants. With the blizzard raging so fiercely, they were afforded an unlooked for opportunity to rest and prepare themselves body and soul for another battle. If they timed their next attack correctly, Oreius was certain that they could use the storm to their own advantage.

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24 Frostmoon 1014

Morrigan paced the length of her tent, one hand clenching the same notched dagger that she had used to kill the witch's representative. She glared at the dark-haired Giantess. "You are certain Culhwch suspects nothing?"

Macha's dim gaze never left the crumpled remains of the Hag as she murmured, "Macha sure. Culhwch doesn't know. He gives Macha pretties for being good and warm."

Morrigan snorted. Had Culhwch not been too smart and too ambitious, she would have taken him as a lover. But he was smart and too dangerous. For that reason she had insisted Grog stay in the Harfangers' camp during the blizzard. She didn't trust the fat old fool not to get himself killed by Culhwch. Fortunately, he was too stupid to care that she spent as much time with younger Giants as with him. Just the promise of her bed was enough to keep Grog in check.

She kicked at the Hag. The useless tool of a northern witch. She had let the blizzard grow too powerful and only that day had it begun to ease. Now the Giants would need to dig their way out of the camps and through the canyons to reach the Narnians again. She glanced at Macha again. "Go back to Culhwch. Take supplies so he doesn't suspect you were reporting to me. And keep him in your arms all day tomorrow."

"Yes, Morrigan."

She watched the black-haired Giantess leave her tent then she turned back to the Hag's lifeless form. Raising her knife as she crouched down, she decided to add to the evening's supper pot. Hags were stringy and greasy but they were still good in a meat pie.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! See, I'm not THAT evil. ;)**


	40. Chapter Forty: Letters from Home 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty: Letters from Home 6

 _Alambiel,_

 _Take courage, sweetheart. The campaign will not last for very much longer. Not if our plans go as they should._

 _Somehow the thought of you guarding my armory puts me in mind of the old saying about leaving a Harpy to watch over the foals. I don't care what Peridan's twins are up to or what that prince has incited them to, do not encourage any of them. I do not want to spend three months cleaning up the damage such an action would no doubt bring about. And do not burn down my armory._

 _I see. Does this mean I need to write to the colt and remind him of his manners and responsibilities? I expect better of him. And, you should take care not to show how much you are enjoying his discomfort, you little minx._

 _Do not fear, Alambiel. I do not intend to return your dam's necklace to you by any other means than my own hand. I know what you are feeling and believe me that I have missed your presence on this campaign. No doubt, it would be over by now if we had had you with us. Instead, we must muddle through on our own for a little while longer. I will always fight to return to you, Alambiel, you have my word._

 _I will return._

 _Oreius_

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 _My dearest Flower,_

 _I'm so sorry I haven't been able to return yet. I wish we could both write as freely as we would speak if we were together. It will be soon, though, Thalia, I can feel it in my bones. As soon as this blizzard clears up, we'll be fighting again. And, don't worry. Whatever changes happen or have happened, we will always face them together…even if it takes me a bit longer to reach you than I planned. Edmund is a bother, I know, but he means well._

 _I'm glad to hear that your mother and sister will be visiting through the winter. I'm sure you must miss each other whenever you're apart. Vidar is himself, then. Don't fret, Flower. Just say the word and an entire battalion will go guard your home grove so your father can be with us at Christmas. You may tell him your human is doing quite well, even if it's cold and snowing right now. I told Edmund he likes me. He actually asked after my health, that's proof! Be sure to tell Edmund for me. He seems to think none of my in-laws like me. Of course, he also thinks I can't cook and you don't really like my cooking. You know, I think that I shall fix a big meal for all of us as soon as I get home._

 _Take care of yourself, my sweet Thalia._

 _Love,_

 _Peter_

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 _Dear Edmund,_

 _Rule Number One: You are always wrong. Even when she's wrong, she's right, and you better apologize._

 _I wasn't laughing the entire time I read your letter…after the third time I read it. She has warm brown eyes, does she? Demure? And, does she still have red hair? Maybe she was just being shy around you? I remember Raisa being fairly quiet._

 _You probably deserved the scolding, brother mine. It's not gentlemanly to make a girl cry._

 _Apologizing would be a start. She may be avoiding you but you could ask Tarrin or perhaps Thalia and the girls if they would help arrange it so Raisa has no choice but to listen to your apology. You're the diplomat in the family, Ed. I'm sure you can keep from sticking your foot in your mouth again if you don't get distracted by her warm brown eyes, that is. If it were one of the girls or Thalia, I'd say take her a gift but I don't think that's very proper by Archenlandish standards and Raisa probably more used to them than to the Narnian way of doings things now. Why don't you ask Susan? Or Thalia, I'm sure she can help you smooth things over with Raisa, and she won't even scold you like Su does._

 _Best of luck, brother mine._

 _Peter_

 _P.S. Are you still fond of redheads, Eddie?_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	41. Chapter Forty-One: Apologies & Brothers

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-One: Apologies and Brothers

"But why can't you just find a puppy and bring it to the queens, Alpha? They like puppies!"

Edmund barely bit back an oath. He was still close enough to Susan's domain that one of her ladies would tattle on him. The last thing he needed was Susan's scolding (and whatever punishment she devised for his use of language). He frowned at Remus. "Because the puppy's parents want to keep their puppy. And the queens will find other puppies to spoil like whenever Peter and Thalia have kids."

"What about Master Tumnus?"

"What about him?"

"Isn't he having a puppy soon?"

Edmund shook his head, wondering again why his lummox of a big brother had ever dreamed of appointing the Greyback brothers to be his personal guard, but he didn't even consider the idea of mentioning that question. Remus was still staring happily up at him, pink tongue lolling as he grinned. Edmund sighed. "I don't remember."

"But, Alpha, Queen Lucy and Queen Susan said that he was. And, Master Tumnus' mate is very big now, almost as big as-"

"Remus!" Edmund glared at him. "How many times do I have to tell you that it's not polite to talk about puppies all the time or who's having puppies?"

The Wolf ducked his big grey head but then he peeked up at him again, yellow eyes shining as he gave a tentative wag of his tail. "But, Alpha, the Queens talk about puppies all the time."

Edmund groaned. "They're girls, they can't really help themselves. You have been told not to talk about or ask about puppies and I- Oh!" He stumbled, his arms automatically wrapping around the person he had just walked into, as he struggled to keep from falling over. "I say, I do apologize. I didn't see you…" He trailed off as he gazed down into a pair of startled, warm brown eyes. "Raisa."

Her face instantly took on a shade of red that rivaled her hair for brightness as she looked down. "I'm sure it was a mistake. It doesn't seem very likely that a King of Narnia would intentionally trod all over a lady's feet, not even the younger of the kings." She faltered, glanced up at him, and then turned even redder. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I didn't mean to say that. It didn't come out as it should have and I was rude. Please forgive me."

"It is I who should be begging your forgiveness, lady," Edmund immediately countered. "I was insufferably thick when we last met. I just…I don't have a good excuse for forgetting you, Raisa. I should have realized you would grow up while you were away and no doubt my sisters gossiped with your mother over your impending return and I simply failed to pay attention to those conversations."

She darted another glance up at him but this time didn't immediately look away. He stared into her warm brown eyes and wondered how he had forgotten her. Well, other than the fact his memory of her drew a far less flattering picture and- For the love of the Lion, what was he thinking?

"People do change, Your Majesty," Raisa was saying carefully when he finally paid attention to her words again.

"Yes. Yes, they do." He paused then asked softly, "So am I forgiven or will my sisters continue to have cause to scold me every chance they get?"

She blushed again. "I- Of course, it was not your fault at all."

"Oh no, it was. I'm a good enough diplomat to know when I'm in the wrong, at least." A faint, crooked smile twisted his lips as he added ruefully, "Even if I'm wondrously blind when it comes to young ladies who had once been members of my own court and newly returned."

The faintest hint of an answering smile appeared on her lips before Remus' voice jarred them both. "Why are you still holding Raisa, Alpha? Does this mean you're going to mate with her?"

Edmund could feel himself blushing and knew he was probably as red as the lady in question as he realized with a jolt that he had been holding Raisa the entire time. He let her go and stepped back as fast as he could, his gaze anxiously scanning the halls for any sign of a wrathful Peridan or even Tarrin. What was wrong with him? He scowled at Remus. "You're not allowed to ask those sort of questions, Remus. It's rude. Now apologize to Lady Raisa."

The Wolf ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Lady Raisa. I only asked on accident."

"It's all right," came the squeaky reply. Then she bobbed a wobbly curtsey. "Excuse me."

Edmund couldn't think of anything to say as he watched the girl flee his presence again. He waited until she was out of sight and the sound of her slippers hitting the marble floors had faded into silence before he turned back to Remus. "Remus."

The Wolf wagged his tail, already grinning happily again. "Yes, Alpha? Do you want me to find someone for you?"

It would do no good to lecture him. Not one lecture over the years had ever actually stuck with the Wolf twins for long. Not to mention the fact that it would be too much effort to lecture him now. Edmund sighed. "Come on, Remus, let's go find your brother."

However, it was not Romulus they came across first. Instead, they came upon two towheaded young boys. Nevertheless, the sight was not a welcome one to Edmund as he discerned the conversation taking place between the two. Corin snatched a piece of parchment out of his brother's hands and pointed rather imperiously at something written on it. "This is not how you spell 'quiet' or 'light' and that's certainly not how you spell 'Cair Paravel.' What's a 'Car Pairvell' anyway?"

Cor looked down. "Well, I'm still learning. Princess Alambiel says I'm improving at a good rate."

His brother scoffed and handed him the paper again. "She probably won't say anything like that with this one. Babies spell better than that. You need to get better and soon or Father will be disappointed."

Edmund wasn't certain that Corin noticed the way Cor paled at the thought of Lune being disappointed, but he did. Enough was enough. He saw Corin glancing over his shoulder as his brother scurried off and then he stepped forward slightly, making sure he caught the boy's attention. Corin looked at him and Edmund crooked a finger. Even from where he stood he could see the sigh lift Corin's narrow shoulders as he reluctantly came over to him. The boy didn't waste any time before asking, "Am I in trouble again?"

"Well, if you were not, why would you ask that question?"

Corin gave him a mutinous look. "I can box you."

"Not this time," Edmund countered. "Why did you taunt Cor?"

The boy's eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head. "I didn't taunt him. I told him the truth. You are always saying royals must be truthful."

It was times like these that he wished Peter were home already. He would have gladly turned the task over to his big brother. Edmund suppressed a sigh as he mulled over the best way to explain things. "Walk with me, Corin."

They walked through the Cair until they reached the gardens. Most of the plants had already gone dormant and the trees had at last shed the last remaining leaves. The land was prepared to sleep through the rest of rainy Stormfall and then through the winter. It was almost peaceful out in the sleeping gardens, which were still beautiful in their own harsh way. Edmund walked to an old oak and braced a shoulder against it as he turned to look at Corin. The boy avoided his gaze, seemingly fascinated with an exposed root. Remus was running around the garden, nose to the ground and tail wagging. He would be occupied for a little while at least. Edmund cleared his throat. "Corin, what does it mean to be side by side and back to back with one's brother?"

Blue eyes flew up to meet his then the boy frowned. "What does training have to do with Cor? He's not allowed in the training yard yet."

"What does it mean to be side by side and back to back with one's brother?"

"It usually means that you protect your brother and he protects you."

"Not usually, always." Edmund waited until Corin was staring at him again before he repeated firmly, "Always. And, it doesn't matter if Cor can work in the training yard yet or not, he is still your brother. You are to always be by his side and at his back. That means you don't tease him about being stupid or your father being disappointed in his progress. He had enough scolding for his lack of training from your tutors. There is a reason why Princess Alambiel is still his main tutor. Your brother needs more confidence. Now tell me, Corin, how is he to gain confidence when you only point out his mistakes and how disappointed your father might be?"

The boy didn't answer right away. Edmund hoped that meant the young rascal was actually considering his words. Corin had a good heart even if he was (as Kat had claimed for years) terribly spoiled and more impulsive than not. Then the quiet words reached his ears, "You always tease your brother."

Edmund snorted. "My brother doesn't have any confidence issues and he knows without a doubt that I will always be there to support him. He's my big brother, so yes I tease him just like I tease my sisters. But they know I'll defend them to my dying breath. Cor doesn't have that assurance. He's still learning how to be a free man, not to mention learning how to be a prince. He fears disappointing your father. It's why Lune asked that he come stay here in Cair Paravel. So that Cor can learn what he needs to as slowly or as fast as he needs to without fear of courtiers whispering about him behind his back."

Corin's expression turned thunderous as he raised both fists. "I'd box them until they stopped."

 _Good._ Edmund didn't permit himself to show that same pleasure as he pointed out, "That would hardly stop them, Corin. And you can't box your father's entire court. Do you wish to help your brother?"

Corin nodded.

"Then why don't you help him with his studies? Perhaps not spelling or reading" he added as Corin made a face, "but I'm sure you can help him somewhat with etiquette. You were Crown Prince for a lot longer than your brother. Encourage him. And, try not to get him killed with some harebrained dare you and Peridan's twins come up with."

Corin snickered. "Oh we were thinking about your anchor suggestion and-"

"I never suggested an anchor prank!"

"Wellll-"

"Corin, no."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	42. Chapter Forty-Two: Plotting, Waiting

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Two: Plotting, Waiting

17 Stormfall 1014

He watched as the Giantess turned on her scout. Morrigan's cunning gaze hardening as she grabbed the Harfanger by his matted beard and yanked him forward. She screeched, "Borak is where?"

Her hapless oaf whimpered, large tears welling up in his piggish eyes, even as he begged, "Mercy, Morrigan, mercy. Bog not guide Borak. Bog watch for King Borak, but he not come. Bog go and look, find Borak to the far west. At cairns of ghosts."

Morrigan slashed through his beard with a notched dagger then kicked the Harfanger when he stumbled. "Fool! Fool! Fool! Why didn't you go get Borak and bring him to the right meeting place?"

Bog cowered before her, a disgraceful example of Gianthood. He raised both arms over his head. "Bog afraid. The ghosts kill. Bog not think-"

He cut off with a gurgle.

Morrigan wrenched her dagger free, uncaring as the blood dripped down her hand and onto the tattered hem of her gown. She glared down at the body. "No, you didn't think. Fool! I-"

The moment she cut herself off mid-rant, Culhwch knew that the dark queen of the Harfangers had at last noticed his presence. He offered a half-bow full of mockery then he picked up a decent-sized boulder and tossed it from hand to hand as he asked, "Shall I fetch your wayward son and king? I could bring Borak to the proper place of meeting. I do not fear ghosts."

Her already hard gaze glittered like bare steel and her wide mouth twisted into a sneer. "Harfang does not need an Ettin to find her king. I will see that Borak comes to the proper place at the proper time." She pointed the bloody knife at him and added menacingly, "Do not make the mistake of attempting to usurp me, Culhwch. I will see your skin hanging in my hall before I allow such a thing."

Culhwch let out a mocking laugh and then he turned and strode back toward his own camp. He was to send a group of his men hunting for the Narnians in an hour's time. Now, he had another he could hunt.

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20 Stormfall 1014

The room was filled the happy chatter of the gathered women, all gossiping about babies and when little ones were due and which ones were already past their due date and a thousand other things, as they sewed baby clothes. It seemed many of the Nymph, human, and Dwarf women in Cair Paravel and the nearest villages were expecting to increase their families during the winter months. Aravis could hardly believe her ears when one blue-skinned and purple-haired Nymph wished for a daughter. She even said it as though a daughter would be a true blessing and not a substitute for the more desired son.

How she wished she could speak to Hwin about this. But it was as impossible as forcing the moon to stand still for the gentle Mare and Bree had both left at the beginning of the month to go find their herds. Aravis privately and quite selfishly hoped that Hwin wouldn't be too glad to see her old herd for she did not want to lose a familiar face…and friend. She hoped the Mare remembered her and that she was still more alone than not here.

"Aravis, fleeing the mother hens already?"

She jumped and spun around to face the speaker only to be confronted with the sight of a basket overflowing with little gowns and blankets. Then the Princess Royal spoke again. "Grab the second basket for me and we'll both escape without too much scolding."

Aravis grabbed the basket that was currently sitting on a chair and quickly followed Princess Alambiel out of the room. She didn't speak until they were out of earshot of the other women (or so she hoped). Then she asked the question burning in her mind with the intensity of a candle in a room of darkness, "Are these for your child?"

The Princess Royal laughed. "Certainly not. They are going to the babies of Hadassah House. They always need new supplies."

Aravis glanced down. "Are they for new sons?"

"And daughters," Princess Alambiel added cheerfully. "Here we are. I think Leeta is still in here." She pushed one of the double doors open and entered a room Aravis had never seen before. "Ah, Leeta, there you are."

The black-eyed Nymph smiled. "Are these the last, Your Highness?"

"Should be. The rest are destined for Cair Paravel's expectant mothers." The Princess Royal set her basket down on the end of a long, wide couch opposite the end that rose into an arm. "Have we filled the crates?"

"All but the last one, Your Highness." The dark-eyed Nymph took the basket from Aravis and crossed to where a large crate had been placed atop a low table not far from the couch. She quickly placed the stack of clothing and blankets into the crate's depths. She glanced at Aravis but did not speak to her. Instead, she addressed her words to the Princess Royal. "Shall I seek out Stormwind and Firemoon?"

Princess Alambiel nodded even as she sorted the contents of her own basket. "Please do. If you can't find them right away, look for Tanith. She'll probably have an idea of where Firemoon is, at least, and he'll know where Stormwind went."

"Of course, Your Highness."

The Princess Royal carried one of the much shorter stacks over to the crate, pausing only to add, "Go on, Leeta. We'll have this done by the time you bring those two goofs back."

Aravis frowned at the odd name and then hurriedly cleared her expression before the older women could see it. The black-eyed Nymph, Leeta, was smiling as she dipped the barest hint of a curtsey. "At once, Your Highness." Then, to Aravis' surprise, she nodded to her as she passed by her, "Lady Aravis."

Aravis stared after the Nymph, still surprised that the Princess Royal's lady-in-waiting had even acknowledged her presence. A throat cleared. She jumped, one hand reaching automatically for her brother's scimitar. But it was not there. Heat crept into her cheeks but she kept her head held high as she met the Princess Royal's amused gaze. Yet, the woman did not laugh or mock. Instead, she gestured to the piles of clothing and blankets. "Would you mind bringing over a stack? It will go faster if we both work."

"It is no trouble." Aravis fetched one stack, mulling over whether she should dare stir up a fierce storm with her blind question. As the poets- She abruptly interrupted that thought. The poets' sayings were not the infallible wisdom as so many Calormenes believed. She wished, instead, that she knew what the Great Lion Aslan would say about her question. She set the stack in the crate, her fingers trailing over the lace trimmings and bright threads embroidering the necklines in simple but colorful patterns. "Do the women speak truly when they say they desire daughters over sons?"

Princess Alambiel didn't even hesitate in her reply when she stated in a simple tone, "Yes." Then she laughed. "Well, as far as Miren is concerned, poor woman is the only female in a house full of eight males. I'm sure she wants some little Nymphs to join her." Aravis suspected she wasn't able to quite hide her feelings of confusion and instinctive disbelief because the older woman smiled gently as she added, "Remember our past discussions, Aravis. Narnia is not like Calormen. Females are desired and welcomed and considered a blessing just as much as males. It is always nice when there is a male child to carry on the father's lineage but it is also nice to see the daughters who often carry on the mother's lineage."

Aravis frowned. "You mean the Nymphs with their different children?"

The older woman nodded. "Nymphs bear their sons in the image of the father but the daughters are always Nymphs."

Aravis opened her mouth and then closed it as she hurried to fetch another stack of clothing and blankets. It was not until the Princess Royal had done the same and they were once more packing the crate that she found a way to put her question into words. "But, you do not have children of your own."

There was a pause. Then a quiet response. "No."

"What is your husband like?" Aravis pressed onward, eager now to ask her questions with the first barrier breached. "Is he truly so accepting of your participation in battle? Of your leading the military training exercises?" Only the week past there had been a coup (to Corin's delight and Cor's alarm…Aravis had only been somewhat startled) and she had marveled when both the women and the men (even those who were soldiers) were so quick to blame Dame Sepphora for being at the heart of the coup. She also marveled privately at the fact that the Narnian Royals did not object to the coup carried out by another royal of the previous dynasty and the fact that it was but the most recent in a long line of coups. If they had been in Tashbaan, Dame Sepphora would have been drawn and quartered after the first coup. That is, if she had not been offered as a sacrifice to Tash.

Princess Alambiel raised both eyebrows at her. "Well, I wondered how long it would take you to ask me more direct questions about Oreius. The answer to your first question is that Oreius is a very proud, very fierce, and very, very, _very_ protective warrior. He serves Narnia and Aslan faithfully. He has done so all his life." She paused, a smile creeping across her face that shone with a love Aravis vaguely recalled seeing on the face of her own mother and also, more recently, on the face of the High King's wife when she had received a letter from her husband. "He is everything I could ask for in a husband. I exasperate him terribly, on purpose a lot of the time, but he is patient and kind with me. He accepts my participation in battle because it is part of who I am, who we are, we have often fought together. He just usually prefers it when we fight together so he can keep an eye on me. Of course, I prefer to fight together so I can keep an eye on _him_." She laughed softly. "And, it was his mad idea to give me a position of authority in the army to begin with. Sometimes I think he second-guesses that particular choice. He loves me and he is worthy of my love."

The older woman abruptly left the room, walking into a room where Aravis could see a large bed and a bedside table that the Princess royal picked something off of before she returned. She held out a framed portrait. "This is my Oreius."

Aravis took the portrait and barely repressed a startled cry. The portrait portrayed a man with a fierce but kind gaze, his long dark hair falling over his shoulders and a neat beard covering his chin, but his features weren't entirely human. In particular, his ears were distinctly horse-like in appearance. After her months around Narnians, Aravis readily recognized the telltale signs of a Centaur.

Her gaze darted from the portrait to the Princess Royal. "He is…not a human."

Thank the Great Lion, Princess Alambiel did not seem to take offense as she laughed. She took the portrait back and then grinned at Aravis. "Was it the ears?"

Aravis nodded mutely. She stared at the woman before her. "I thought humans didn't marry the native Narnians, the Satyrs, Fauns, and Centaurs, I mean."

"Humans don't. But I am far more Narnian than human and I have the lifespan of a Centaur-kin Nymph." Princess Alambiel laughed softly. "It's not a new development, Aravis. My mother, Hadassah, was the Nymph daughter of a Centaur and my father's aunt married a Centaur. She was half-Nereid, by the way. So, technically, a fondness for Centaurs runs in my family on both sides. Plus you have met Tuulea and Stonebrook and one of their sons is also married to a Nymph." She touched the portrait gently with just the tips of her fingers but said nothing more.

Aravis thought she was lost in the memories of her husband. He was away in the north with the High King. She studied the older woman's face. There were the light prints of grief, weariness, longing, and loneliness in her blue eyes but there also shimmered in their depths love and hope. "You miss him greatly."

"I do. We've never been apart this long." The Princess Royal sighed and then she shook herself, lowering the portrait to rest on the table next to the crate. "Well, this crate won't finish packing itself. Let's hurry before my husband's cousins get here. Trust me, you don't want to deal with the annoyance of a pair of Centaur stallions deciding they can heckle you. I'm going to strangle Stormwind by Yule if he keeps it up."

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The Narnians had moved their camp. Despite winter's grasp on the land and the almost daily snowfall, the Narnians had been sly. Morrigan's men were still searching for the new camp. It had taken Culchwch until now, three days after he had been challenged by Morrigan, to find them. He had waited until the end of a battle yesterday and then followed their scant trail through the darkness until he'd found the camp just before dawn. The Narnians were clever for talking food.

He stayed far back, sheltered in the mountain's bosom from the spying eyes of the Birds and Gryphons, as he watched the Narnians in the camp. The Buffin family remained with them. Culhwch's eyes narrowed as he spied those loathsome and pitifully weak Giants. They were soft. He had not forgotten Bramblebuffin, He would see that one was reminded of his weak pitiful status before he killed him.

Culhwch's hand tightened on the cudgel hanging from his belt before he forced away the urge for revenge. He rubbed the chin of his smaller head. Macha had returned to Morrigan, tasked with uncovering the location of Borak and his men. The Giantess would not dare to fail him. He trusted her hate of Morrigan more than any fondness the Harfanger Giantess might hold for him though she was a pleasant companion for his bed. When Macha returned to him, he would find a way to lure Borak into a trap set by the Narnians. If the Narnians could rid him of Borak, he would be able to move part of his plan forward sooner than he had originally intended.

Morrigan would also be furious over the loss of Borak. Either the Narnians would eliminate her or she would lose her position among the Giants. Culhwch would see to that option. Twin grins appeared on his faces as he contemplated how he might humiliate and break scornful Morrigan. It would be soon now.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	43. Chapter Forty-Three: An Interruption

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Three: An Interruption

21 Stormfall 1014

Edmund grunted as he landed on his back hard. When the air returned to his lungs, he grunted, "That's cheating."

"No it's not. Now get up and go again or I'll sentence you to visit the points of the compass."

He glared at Kat as he gingerly got back to his feet, picking up Shafhelm once more. Kat twirled her knives as she backed away, a smile creeping across her face as she did so. Edmund suppressed a groan. He hated it when Kat smiled during sparring matches. It always meant she was going to make sure that he could barely move tomorrow and that he would end up on his front or his back or his side multiple times. "Don't you have other people you could torture?"

She laughed. "Sure, but you're more fun, Eddie boy."

He would have rolled his eyes at her but that was when she attacked. Kat fought dirty. She used every dirty trick during fights, it annoyed Peridan and challenged Peter who both fought with straightforward dignity and honor, but Edmund had learned a lot of his own dirty fighting from Kat. He still hated sparring with her when she felt like fighting dirty.

He swung Shafhelm down, blocking the knife aimed at his stomach, and dodged to the left to avoid her other knife. He jumped back to avoid a kick. "No kicking," he snapped right before he went on the attack. He battered at her knives, knocking them aside each time only to be blocked again. Still, he pressed on, slowly but surely forcing her to give ground.

Kat didn't have the advantage in height anymore. He was her height now. Peter was taller, of course. Yet, even though Edmund was more wiry than his big lummox of a brother, he was fairly certain that he was heavier than Kat. She certainly complained about his weight the times she had been forced to drag him somewhere or out of something. Edmund grimaced as Kat kicked him in the shin. "Ow!"

"Pay attention! Or I'll make you run suicides."

She was still giving ground. Edmund growled under his breath and lunged forward, sweeping Shafhelm toward her legs. Kat jumped up and immediately kicked him in the chest. Edmund landed flat on his back again. He groaned as the tip of his own sword was placed against his chest directly over his heart. "Yield."

Kat grinned then leaned down to offer him a hand up. "Well fought. Although, you let yourself get sloppy at the end."

"Don't tell Oreius," he begged, only half-joking.

Kat laughed. Then she tossed him Shafhelm. "Another round?"

Edmund snorted. "We've already gone five."

"And, six is an even number."

"Why can't you pick on Ardon? Or, Cletus? Or, even Peridan? Or, Tarrin. You should pick on Tarrin. He's the newest knight, after all."

Kat's laughter killed any faint hope that she would choose a different victim for her next bout of sparring. Edmund suppressed a sigh as he realized that he'd probably just guaranteed that Kat would be picking him to beat on during all future sparring matches until Oreius returned. He really hoped Oreius would come home soon. She grinned at him, a dangerous light in her eyes now. "Prepared to taste steel, Sir How?"

His hand went to Shafhelm, clasping the hilt with confidence. "Not in the least, Dame Sepphora."

"Well that will-"

She cut herself off and sheathed her knives as twin howls filled the air.

Edmund groaned again as he recognized the howls _and_ the shouting voices accompanying them. Then, four boys burst into the clearing followed by his Wolves. Remus let out a joyful howl and jumped into Edmund's arms. He staggered back a step but managed to retain his balance…that is, until Cor and Shane (they were wearing the right clothing, at least) both crashed into his legs. He yelped as he went down.

Kat snapped, "Corin! What have we told you about dyeing your brother?"

Dye? Edmund closed his eyes and groaned. Susan was going to kill him because somehow this was going to be his fault. Then, he yelped as a cold wet nose was shoved into his ear. "Remus!"

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24 Stormfall 1014

Queen Lucy was beautiful. There was no question of that. Her beauty was of a different sort than her sister's, a vibrant, more approachable kind of beauty that resided in her ready laugh and bright shining smile. Always welcoming, always willing to believe the best of people, even lowly knights who couldn't even speak properly when in her presence. Tarrin Peridanson repressed a sigh as he recalled so many painfully awkward situations over the years. It was a wonder the Four tolerated his presence. It was a miracle Queen Lucy hadn't forbidden him from every being in her presence.

A slim hand suddenly slipped into his and squeezed. Tarrin jumped then he felt his ears burn as Lucy giggled. He stammered as the enormity of the fact that he had been _ignoring_ the Valiant Queen slammed into him with as much fury as a Centaur in battle. "I- My pardon, Majesty. No, I mean, I beg my pardon- Your pardon!" He groaned and buried his face in both hands as he realized just how inept he was at speaking. Why did Aslan ever grant him speech? He couldn't wield it when in Queen Lucy's company.

"Tarrin? Are you all right?"

He lowered his hands abruptly, his ears on fire, as he gazed into Lucy's upturned face. Her earnest gaze made him wish he could speak clearly for just one conversation. "Despite the embarrassing slips of the tongue, your majesty, I am well."

"Oh." A hint of mischief crept into her blue eyes, making him want to laugh with her even though he didn't know the joke. "Then you were listening as I told you about Susan's newest scheme to make Edmund choose a lady to escort to the Christmas Day ball?"

Tarrin coughed and tugged at the neck of his tunic. "The Christmas Day ball? But that's a month off."

Queen Lucy laughed. "I know. I think Edmund should take your sister. If she'll have him."

Tarrin frowned at that. He liked King Edmund. He counted him as a friend (especially since he had been the one who kept the High King from skewering him after he accidentally kissed Queen Lucy on her eighteenth birthday), but he wasn't sure if Raisa could accept his attention without once again losing her heart to the Just King. "I don't think King Edmund would appreciate being pushed toward any young lady. He never has in the past."

Queen Lucy's sweet laugh filled his ears again. She grinned at him as she took his hands in hers. "All big brothers are the same, aren't they? No man is ever good enough for their little sister."

Well, her brothers were certainly correct in that regard. Yet, Tarrin longed for her to know the painful truth. "Queen Lucy, I-"

"Yes, Tarrin?"

He licked his lips nervously and hoped his palms weren't sweaty. Queen Lucy's hands were soft. And… He really needed to keep his thoughts together before King Edmund had reason to skewer him. Tarrin cleared his throat. "Queen Lucy, I was wondering if…if you would be willing to let me-" The word he wanted to say caught in his throat. It wouldn't budge. Perhaps that was a good thing. He swallowed hard and then finished lamely, "Would you let me escort you to the Christmas Day ball?"

He thought he caught a glimmer of disappointment in the Valiant's clear gaze but it wasn't there when he looked a second time. By Aslan, he truly was flattering himself if he thought the Valiant Queen was disappointed that he only asked to be her escort to a ball a month away. Maybe he should let King Edmund beat him in the training yard just to deflate his swollen head.

Yet, that knowledge wasn't enough to stop his pleasure when Queen Lucy nodded, smiling brightly. "Of course, Sir Tarrin, I'd be delighted to go with you to the ball."

"Thank you." He blushed, mortified. "I mean, it's your pleasure. No, I mean it's my pleasure. It's very pleasure…pleasant." He coughed then added in a low mutter that he was certain did nothing to hide his embarrassment, "I look forward to it, Your Majesty."

"Queen Lucy!" The call came from around the corner just before a Collie appeared, her gold and white fur flowing as she ran toward them. She wagged her tail. "Princess Thalia asked me to look for you. Will you still join her in the northern gardens?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Queen Lucy glanced back at him and graced him with a smile he surely didn't deserve. "I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait, Sir Delos. Oh, do extend my invitation to your parents for your family to join us for a private supper tonight. Kat is dining with Oreius' cousins and Tanith so we need more people to join our meal and alleviate the quiet."

Dazzled by the full force of another smile, Tarrin could only nod. He felt Lu- Queen Lucy squeeze his hand and then she was gone in a swirl of skirts and hair. Uncaring of the image he projected to any passersby, he slumped against the wall and smacked himself in the forehead. "Stupid." He smacked himself again.

"From what I've seen, knocks to your head rarely fix the thoughts rattling around in your brain."

Tarrian jumped. "Raisa!" His eyes narrowed as he realized how close his sister stood to him. "How much did you hear?"

"Almost everything," she quipped in the same singsong tone that always set his teeth on edge when they were younger. Actually, it still set his teeth on edge. Raisa's expression took on that same know-it-all look she had always had as a girl. "You do realize that courtships go much smoother when the gentleman involved actually speaks of his desire to the lady in question, right?"

He scowled at her. "How do you know I didn't intend to just ask Queen Lucy if I might be her escort?"

"Why would you ask her a month before the ball? You never plan that far ahead."

Tarrin rolled his eyes as he straightened and then tugged on his tunic. "Well, I wanted to ask her before she was obliged to go with some suitor who can't ever remember his manners. That's all."

"That's not all, Tarrin Peridanson," Raisa countered. She raised both eyebrows at him. "Well? Why haven't you asked her yet?"

He tried to glare, tried to pretend he was just the big brother being annoyed by his kid sister again, but he wasn't able to keep it up. Instead, he gave his head a little shake as a bitter laugh broke free. "I can't say anything. I can never say anything. I'm just… She has princes and dukes vying for her hand. Look at me, Raisa, I'm just a knight. And, yes, I know Father is a lord and I'm his heir but, as of this moment, I'm only a knight." He shook his head again as he sighed, "I'm not even worthy enough to touch the hem of the Valiant's skirt."

"Fiddlesticks!" Raisa declared, sounding even more like her old self than the polished young lady who had returned that summer. She crossed her arms, a mutinous look asserting itself, as she glared at him. "You're being absolutely ridiculous, Tarrin. Narnia is nothing like Archenland or Sisemaal. Queen Lucy can marry who she wishes, I'm sure. After all, the High King married a Nymph."

"Which makes it even more important for strong alliances with human nobles," Tarrin countered.

Raisa's expression darkened. "Sisemaal is horribly strict and divided among the classes. Anvard was still stiff and preoccupied with ranks and who was upper nobility and who was lower, but they were relatively free compared to the strictures placed on the court in Sisemaal. Women have no voice outside the things deemed to be a woman's affair, but even in Anvard women have stricter roles and expectations. Narnia is true freedom. We have our roles but we are not valued less or more by our sex or rank. All roles are seen as valuable." Her brown eyes softened as she rested a hand on his arm. "A mere knight is as important as the highest member of the council. A simple farmer is as important and respected as a king. Don't let the rules of other lands steal your happiness, Tarrin. You just might be stealing hers as well."

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"Philip."

The Horse raised his head with a surprised whicker. He looked in the direction of Cair Paravel's stables. His ears had not deceived him. He watched in astonishment as the delicate Mare trotted toward him, her head held high and tail flowing in the wind. "Hwin."

He remembered his manners as soon as she stopped short, nostrils flaring, and prancing nervously. Hwin looked around and then she asked in soft voice, "Have I- I hope I have not disturbed you."

Philip snorted. "Not at all. My boy is caught up in meetings today. I merely came out here for a gallop and a roll."

Hwin's ears swiveled back and forth as she pawed at the grass. "Not to graze?"

"In the spring and summer, the grass is very sweet. Even through much of autumn. However, it will not be long before the first snowfall now and the grass is no longer as satisfying." He hesitated. "I thought you had gone to your herd."

The little Mare bobbed her head. "I did. I met my sire. He was very…" She trailed off, seeming at loss for words, before she shook her mane. "He said I looked just like my dam. I met my brothers too."

"No sisters?"

"Two, but they've already left my sire's herd to join their husbands'. I have been invited to come back in the spring. It is when the herd will travel to see my youngest sister's foal."

"Invited back?" he repeated. "Your sire did not welcome you to stay with the herd?"

He could hardly fathom the situation. Through careful questioning, they had learned that Hwin, while pampered as a very fine, highly bred mare would be when in Calormene hands, had never done anything to bring shame to her herd or her people. She had been a slave but she had aided in a heroic venture. If anything, her sire should have been glad to welcome his lost filly back into the herd.

Hwin lowered her head. "He invited me. But, my dam died only a year past and it was obviously difficult for my sire to look at me for very long. And, I still need to look after Aravis. She has yet to adjust to her new life. And Narnia is so different than even I dreamed it would be. I thought…I thought I would come back to Cair Paravel."

"Do you know how long you will be staying?"

"At least until spring," she said, raising her head. "That is, if their majesties will not mind my intrusion," she added in a rush.

"You will be welcome, Madam," Philip assured her even as he promised himself that he would see that his boy extended an indefinite invitation to the Mare.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	44. Chapter Forty-Four: Healing Hands

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Four: Healing Hands

13 Stormfall 1014

"What else can you do to help them, Charis?"

Peter's heart sank as the Nymph archer shook her head, looking remarkably grave. "We have neither the supplies nor the healers to continue meeting their needs, my king."

"It is true, Your Majesty," interjected Marigold, a Centauress who looked as weary as the soldiers she treated. She raised both hands in a helpless gesture and flicked her tail, no doubt irritated by the problem…or rather their inability to address the problem. "Despite the supplies sent to us from the outposts, we have too many wounded. Many will not survive the winter if we do not send them away."

Peter looked up from the disconcerting list of names of wounded and dead soldiers spread on the table before him. He frowned at the Centauress. "Away?"

She bowed her head. "As the chief healer for the campaign, I must recommend this course of action. I cannot knowingly condone at least four hundred soldiers to die out here. If we sent them back to Narnia, back to Cair Paravel, Alithia and the other healers will be able to save most, if not all, of them." She paused, glanced at where Oreius stood next to Peter, and then continued, "If we send the most severely wounded home, we can save them. If we do not, they will die."

Peter opened his mouth and then shut it. He had to think before he spoke. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Healers Charis and Marigold. I will take your request under advisement and give you my answer in an hour's time."

Both women bowed their heads and then they withdrew from the tent.

Peter got up and paced. His heart urged him to say 'yes, of course' but his head and hard lessons learned told him to be cautious too. After only five minutes of pacing, he turned to Oreius. The Centaur was studying the list of wounded soldiers but he looked up to meet Peter's gaze. "My King?"

"Can we do it?"

"It is possible. However, in order to do so safely, we will need to create a plan." The Centaur gestured to the map. "I believe that we can provide a distraction for those soldiers' transport. There is another storm building, though this one looks to be less fierce than that a few weeks ago. We can use it to ambush a Giant scout party. If we are industrious, we can also move our main camp at the same time the wounded return south."

Peter's eyes lit up as he recognized the General's strategy. "We will disappear this time. How large an escort?"

"We will send a third of the healers and two Buffins along with three companies of soldiers to provide escort. The soldiers and the Buffins will return to us once the wounded have been safely escorted to the nearest border outpost. If I recall correctly, there should be at least three patrols within easy hailing distance who may take up the task of escorting the wounded to Cair Paravel."

Peter nodded. "We'll do it at once." He paused, glancing over at where his Tigers lay. Bast had been wounded during their latest battle, a spiked cudgel ripping into her left side had left more severe injuries than the fierce Tigress would admit. Yet, as soon as the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. Bast would never agree to being sent home. She'd either refuse to go in the first place or sneak back as soon as the escort was out of sight of the camp. Glancing back at Oreius, he noted the General's slight amusement. Apparently, his thoughts and ultimate conclusion had been plainly written. "Choose the escort, General, and get Marigold's recommendation for the healers." He hesitated then added softly, "Mumpwort probably won't be on that list, will he?"

The Centaur raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"I was afraid of that." Peter grinned. "Well, I supposed we must continue to hear about how our noses will fall off and hair fall out until we can return home ourselves."

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26 Stormfall 1014

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan! Queen Susan!"

Susan looked up from her knitting at the bright red Cardinal fluttering above her. "Yes?"

The Cardinal didn't cease his agitated flight even when he spoke again, "Soldiers! Soldiers are coming!"

She jumped to her feet, uncaring as her knitting (more socks for Edmund) fell to the floor with a clatter as the needles bounced on the marble. "From which direction?"

"North, Queen Susan, north!"

Thalia finally let out a cry. "Is it Peter?"

Susan raised a hand, cautioning her sister-in-law against causing too much of a stir. "Do the soldiers fly the High King's colors?"

"No, Queen Susan! They're all wounded! The High King sent them home!"

She ignored the pang of disappointment at the realization that Peter was not on his way home already. How she missed her big brother. She gave herself a little mental shake and focused on the task at hand. "How far out, are they?"

"Two days. They will be here by the evening of the twenty-eighth."

So soon. Oh, it would take all the time between now and then to prepare. Susan took two steps toward the sitting room's doors before she stopped and looked back up at the Cardinal. "How many soldiers?"

"Four hundred wounded, Queen Susan. Four hundred."

"Thank you. Please take your ease now." Without waiting to see the Bird was properly taken care of or even thinking to speak to Thalia, Susan raced from the room. She hurriedly sent pages scurrying to find Kat as well as Leeta in addition to Lucy. Others she sent to summon every healer or healer-trained individual in the Cair. She slowed to a brisk pace when she left the royal wing. Yet, she did not stop until she had reached the healers' wings, which were already humming with quiet conversations.

Kat was there, standing next to Alithia. Lucy ran in on her heels. Susan didn't see Leeta but she suspected the Black Elder Nymph was there. A number of the army's healers were also present. Susan gazed around the room, waiting for the conversations to die down as all eyes turned to her. When it was silent, she spoke. "The High King has sent back wounded. Four hundred soldiers are being escorted to Cair Paravel now. It is expected that they will arrive by the evening of the twenty-eighth. Whether or not they have news of the campaign's status is unimportant for now. We need to prepare for them. I know it isn't much time or warning, but I also know that every one of you will do everything in your power to help our wounded soldiers. Let us not fail in the High King's trust."

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29 Stormfall 1014

The healers' wing swarmed with people. Aravis stood just inside the doors, watching as the Queens and Princesses moved among the wounded soldiers. Queen Lucy was giving a badly mangled Wolf a drop from her diamond vial. Queen Susan was helping a healer clean a Faun's wounds across his chest and down his left side. Princess Thalia was making sure the healers' supply of bandages were still sufficient. Princess Alambiel was barely visible between two drawn curtains but she was apparently aiding in an operation.

Aravis' attention wandered across the room. She didn't feel as though she would be able to help at all. And, as she began to receive suspicious looks from some of the newcomers (even though the healers of the Cair immediately tried to reassure them), she decided it would be best if she left. She didn't want to agitate any of the wounded or to get in the healers' way. Besides, her head spun with thoughts and questions faster than the little toy top she used play with as a child. What she'd seen had saddened, baffled, and awed her all at once. Yet… Yet, she could not seem to bring her thoughts into any semblance. They remained as scattered as sand cast about by the windstorms.

"Aravis?"

She looked up, only know realizing that her feet had carried her to the stables. "Hwin. Are you well, dear one?"

The Mare bobbed her head and then she stretched her neck out over the stall door and snuffled Aravis' hair. "You looked…confused. Are you all right? I heard from the other Horses that there are many wounded in the palace right now."

Aravis nodded. "Very many. The Royals are aiding the healers even as we speak, my dear friend." She let herself into the stall and wrapped her arms around the Mare's delicately arched neck, hiding her face in her mane. "Oh Hwin, how I fail the Great Lion. I should be in there helping them but my very presence brought only anguish to those favored and valiant warriors."

"But, my lady, you are not trained in the healing arts."

Aravis pulled back, a little startled to hear Hwin address her that way again. They had both been trying very hard to break their old habits since coming to the north. Hwin ducked her head and then nuzzled Aravis' arm. After several moments, the Horse broke the heavy silence. "Do the Royals truly work with the healers?"

She nodded. "They do. I have seen them with my own eyes. Though, I would never have imagined it, the Queens and the Princesses are all working with the healers to render comfort and aid to the wounded."

"I don't think I've seen many Tarkaans or Tarkheenas who would do that."

Aravis shook her head. "Neither have I. Most of us probably wouldn't even know what to do if entreated to aid in such an endeavor. Save perhaps a few of the Tarkaans who go to war. My brother was taught some of the arts by our family healer. Yet, it was not his place to heal others. That was always the realm of the healers. They were of the class who would deal with such matters." She frowned, thinking back on her own carelessness toward the servant girl, of the scars she bore across her back, and wondering at how different her perspective had been then. "I'm not sure how many of us would have cared for strangers who were wounded if they had no value to us. It is one thing to desire to help our kin but another entirely to help those we do not know and when we are not protecting some sort of need of our own. I know the Tisroc (may he shrivel forever) would not care if his soldiers lay dying so long as it meant he was not in danger."

Hwin nudged her. "Then we are very blessed to have made it to Narnia, a land where the rulers truly care for their subjects as people."

Aravis smiled. "We are." She combed her fingers through Hwin's forelock. "Would you like me to groom you? Your coat is getting thicker."

"Oh yes, please. That would be delightful."

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A large grey Cat looked up from where he'd been pressing one of his paws against a Faun's forehead. His gimlet eyes sparkled. "Has your littermate bitten you again, your highness?"

Cor jumped then flushed as the three nearest healers turned to look at him. He met the Cat's steady gaze and shook his head. "No. I just." He swallowed, licked his lips, and then took a step toward the bed as he gestured to the water bucket resting at the foot of the bed. "Do you need me to fill water buckets? Or I can fetch and carry things?"

For a moment, everyone awake in the room stopped and looked over at him. Cor blushed and ducked his head. He darted a glance at the Cat. To his surprise, the feline nodded. "We need fresh water for washing wounds and for providing drinks. Dump out the buckets with low water or that are warm. Then bring fresh water." He paused then asked, "Are you certain you can do this without spilling?"

Cor nodded. "I can."

He gathered the two nearest buckets, one empty and the other with only a scant layer remaining on the bottom, and then hurried out the side door indicated by a Nymph healer. The memories of carrying buckets of water and dumping stale water from the time he could barely lift a bucket washed over him. Arsheesh had been quick to beat him if he spilled too much water. It was almost amusing that his fa- that the fisherman's cruel lessons now helped him to be of use to much kinder people. He kept the water buckets filled. When one room was done, he moved on to the next area of the healers' wings. The only place he didn't go was in the curtained off places where they were operating, but that was only because the grownups would shoo him away. When the water buckets were tended to, Cor turned his attention to fetching toweling or bandages. Anything the healers might use to help the wounded. He also brought tea and coffee to the healers (though he was again shooed away from those performing surgeries).

By the time evening fell, his arms, shoulders, and back all ached from the strain of carrying the heavy water buckets and the muscles in his legs throbbed. He was glad that he'd remembered to put on shoes. His feet ached but he imagined the blisters would have been worse if he'd been barefoot. After checking the water buckets one last time, Cor sank wearily onto a stool.

"That was well done."

He jumped at the quiet words. His wild gaze landed on Princess Alambiel. She looked tired but she was smiling and there was a hint of approval in her eyes that made Cor's chest swell as his own aches were momentarily forgotten. Then, he remembered what he'd done and he blushed as he whispered, "It wasn't much. It's all I truly know how to do."

Princess Alambiel ruffled his hair, gently brushing it back off his forehead, still smiling. "No, you did much. Your help freed up a number of the apprentices so we had more healing hands. Thank you, Cor."

"I-" He barely kept from protesting as he recalled etiquette lessons. Sometimes the politest thing one could do was to accept the thanks offered even if he didn't feel worthy. "I'm glad I could help."

Laughter lurked in Princess Alambiel's eyes. His stomach growled noisily. Princess Alambiel's smile widened. She leaned down and kissed him atop his hair then straightened before she gave him a little push. "Go on, a supper should be laid out in your rooms by now and I ordered the servants to draw you a bath."

He slipped off the stool, already limping toward the doors when she called after him, "Something you should remember, Cor. A king who is truly great is a man who is humble and who is willing to dirty his hands no matter how menial the task may appear."

The words buoyed Cor even more than the promise of food and a bath. Princess Alambiel still believed in him. She approved of his meager means of helping. Maybe he wasn't failing as miserably at being a crown prince as he often feared. Maybe one day he'd actually be worthy of the position and the responsibilities that accompanied it.

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30 Stormfall 1014

"Your Highness?"

Alambiel lifted her head from where she'd been resting it on her arms and blinked at the shadow blocking half the candlelight. She blinked again. Nut-brown hair, arms wrapped around herself, and anxious light green eyes. Thalia. Alambiel yawned then blinked again. "Thalia? Do they need more help in the healers' wing?"

Thalia came a little closer, her skirts swishing as she did so. "I'm sorry. I should not have bothered you."

She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to make her tired brain work. If the Kentauri were here, he would have carried her to bed by now just so she couldn't argue against it anymore. She shook her head. "No, it's fine. I was just resting for a few minutes." She blinked Thalia back into focus and then stretched her arms above her head as she asked, "What's a matter?"

"I… Did the soldiers say anything?"

"Thank you. Water. More. Where's my family?" She stopped abruptly when she heard the telltale sniffle. Regret washed over her. "Forgive me, Thalia. I'm afraid my mind's being more literal than usual. The soldiers have said many things. Please tell me exactly what you wish to know."

Thalia sniffed again then fumbled in her flared skirts until she drew out a handkerchief. She blotted her tears. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just been so difficult not to feel the axe bite at my roots. Have- Have the soldiers said anything about Peter's return? About the army's return? Is the campaign over?"

Alambiel's heart went out to the younger Nymph and she wished she could say something different. But, she was forced to shake her head. "No. They carry no news as far as a specific return date." Even in the flickering candlelight, Thalia visibly drooped and Alambiel hurried to add, "However, the campaign is hard-fought. And, we both know that Peter and Oreius won't come home until _they_ think their task is complete."

"Do you think they will be home by Christmas?"

"I don't know. But, there is still time for it to happen. Still hope." Ignoring her body's protests, she slowly stood from the chair she'd pulled up to the table while writing letters to soldiers' families, alerting them to their loved ones' conditions. Then, Alambiel walked stiffly around the table and pulled Thalia into a hug. "Have faith, Thalia. It's been a long road but Peter will come back to you, even if he has to crawl to Cair Paravel."

The younger Nymph burst into tears.

Alambiel held her until the onslaught of tears finally seemed to lessen. Then, she offered Thalia a spare handkerchief. "Come on, let's get you to bed. It's been a long two days and you need your rest. We don't want Peter to come home and find you ill because you didn't rest enough."

She breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Thalia didn't protest, not even when she decided to make sure she had a sleepover with Susan and Lucy. Leaving the young Nymph in her sisters-in-law's hands, Alambiel headed back to the room just off the healers' wing. But, she took the long way, checking in on the soldiers who yet remained in the healers' care. Lucy had healed seventy-nine who had been on the brink of death. There were fifteen others who might have need of the cordial before evening fell on the morrow, perhaps even before noon. Alambiel stopped by several sickbeds whose occupants had awoken with a thirst. Two soldiers, both young and green when they had joined the campaign in the spring, required calming words and hands when battleshock bestowed horrific nightmares upon them.

Alambiel was kneeling beside the bed of one of those soldiers when she heard hooves behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and met Alithia's concerned gaze before she turned back to the young Centaur. His face bore the white lines of pain and fear and his grip on her hand was painful as he squeezed hard enough to cut off the blood supply to her fingers. Alambiel reached out with her free hand and gently stroked his brow.

"How long have you been here?" Alithia whispered.

"A while."

Ptah grumbled from where he was sitting nearby, "She never went to bed."

"Alambiel."

The whispered scold didn't affect her as she continued to try her best to soothe the soldier. Alambiel did, however, cast Ptah a warning glance. The Leopard only gazed at her with the enigmatic expression Cats of all sizes had long ago perfected. He added in a low growl, "She hasn't eaten since the soldiers arrived. She seems to think coffee will keep her on her feet."

"Tattletale," she muttered.

The soldier stirred, his grip on her hand tightening painfully until she was forced to bite the side of her cheek to keep from making any sounds of distress. Instead, she focused on stroking his brow and then his fingers, murmuring soft words of comfort to him. Behind her, she heard Alithia moving around and then the light taps of a Faun's approach. Then a Faun healer was beside her, a cup in one hand. He poured the liquid into the soldier's mouth. A few minutes after the soldier swallowed, he gave a sigh and his grip on her fingers went slack.

Alambiel stood back up, massaging her fingers as they tingled with new sensation and blood flowing through them again. She was immediately confronted by Alithia's glare. Knowing there was no escaping the lecture, she nodded to the side room where she had been writing to the families. The Centauress followed her as she expected. In fact, she barely waited for the door to close before beginning (more restraint than Alambiel had expected). "How does hurting yourself help these soldiers? Oreius would not approve if he could see you now, Alambiel, and you know it. You should know better. You are trained in the healing arts. You know how important rest and proper nutrition is, especially when you have more demands placed on you. Actually, I believe you are placing too many demands upon yourself."

She closed one eye and squinted at the Centauress, eying her rounded sides as they heaved. "You're not supposed to be upsetting yourself. Solon is worried enough about you without giving him a true reason."

Alithia stamped a hoof. "You will not deflect this conversation."

"I guess not but I do need to finish these letters to the families." She picked up her quill and held it over the inkwell before she glanced at her friend again. "I'll get some rest after I finish, Alithia. You can even order Ptah to sit on me until I do. But, I need to do this. Oreius sent a missive with the wounded asking me to do so."

After a tense moment full of glares, tail flicking, and hoof stamping, Alithia finally nodded. "Very well. However, I had better not find you in the healers' wing again until you've rested for at least the rest of the afternoon. It's already mid-morning."

"All right, all right, I promise." Alambiel dipped the quill and then started writing the next letter on her list. She heard retreating hoof beats and then the door shutting behind Alithia. However, she didn't let herself pause in her duties. Only after the last letter was written and signed did Alambiel give into her exhaustion. She pushed the stack of letters and the writing implements to one side of the desk, crossed her arms, and promptly rested her head on them. After a nap, she'd be back to work, checking on the wounded and also on Thalia. Her final thought before sleep overtook her was the wish that Oreius had included an approximate return date. It would be easier to comfort everyone if she knew when the army would return home.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	45. Chapter Forty-Five: Borak

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Five: Borak

Culhwch did not hide his smiles as he stared at the Harfanger puppet king. Borak was nothing. His small eyes remained dull as he stared at Culhwch. "Who sent you?"

He was surprised the fool had enough wit to even think to ask such a question. Culhwch marched closer to the shorter Giant. He sneered at the stained and patched velvet tunic straining to contain Borak's gut. The Harfanger took a small step back, one hand reaching up to tug at some bone ornaments in his braided beard. And this was who Morrigan had chosen to act as king? Perhaps she was not as smart as he had thought. "I sent me."

"You sent you?"

Culhwch gave a nod. "Yes. I came to see if Borak is truly king or does he merely dance to Morrigan's tune."

Borak's expression grew sullen as he tugged on his beard some more. "Morrigan does not play music. Borak does not dance."

"Who rules Harfang? Borak or Morrigan?"

The small eyes finally lit with understanding and then narrowed with anger. Borak took a step forward. "I am king!"

That was easier than Culhwch had hoped it would be. Morrigan had been away from home too long if her son was so eager to declare himself sole ruler. He smirked. It was perfect. He held his hand out to Borak. "Then Culhwch will fight with you."

Borak hesitated then with a thick laugh he clasped Culhwch's arm. "We fight!"

He grinned. "Good. But, Morrigan is being too cautious. We should have eaten the Narnians by now, baked them into pies, won Narnia, as you promised all of us."

Borak frowned in response as he let go of his arm. His small eyes darted around the gathered Giants, noting their eager and angry expressions. Then he took up his spear and held it over his head as he bellowed, "We fight! We eat! We take Narnia!"

"We fight! We eat! We take Narnia!"

As the chant gained strength and echoed through the mountain valley, Culhwch smiled. His plan was falling into place easily. Now to lead Borak into a trap of his own making.

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"Fools!" screeched Morrigan, the chains and bones adorning her black dress rattling as she whirled to face them. She felt only some satisfaction when Borak cowered and a bit more when her slap sent him stumbling. She glared at Culhwch. The smug Ettin stared at her with twin smirks. She pointed at him. "Fool! You alerted the Narnians to Borak's position!"

"No. Borak's men were too loud." He dared to shrug his massive shoulders. "I silenced them."

She fumed as she turned on her son once more and kicked him in the side. "Fool! Fool! Fool! You do not give orders. I give orders!"

His pathetic whimpers reached her ears but only hardened her heart. He was so weak. It was a miracle the children he had sired weren't true half-wits. It was past time for her to choose a new consort. Someone who would bend to her will alone. Morrigan turned away from Borak in disgust and focused on Culhwch. "You will obey Grog and move your men into position. We only have one chance to catch the Narnians by surprise. In two days' time, we crush the Narnians. Be careful I do not crush you too."

Culhwch dared to laugh at her and then he marched away from the Ettin camp, pausing only to snatch Macha by the wrist and drag her in his wake. Morrigan sneered at them both. She was going to kill Macha in front of Culhwch at their victory feast. Since the Ettin seemed so fond of the pretty daughter of her old rival. She should have killed the daughter when she killed the mother.

Morrigan scanned the camp. Then she lifted the war spear and raised it over her head. "We fight! We win! We feast!"

Her soldiers immediately took up the cry.

Morrigan's gaze drifted back down to Borak's pathetic form. He still blubbered and whimpered. If she had had time to deal with the competition of suitors to replace him, she would have slain him where he lay. However, she did not. Therefore, he would live a little longer. Until they had won victory over the Narnians.

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25 Stormfall 1014

Peter lifted the dried blossoms to his lips and pressed the lightest of kisses against them. "Almost there, Flower," he murmured as he placed the trio of flowers back into the embroidered bag and then tucked the bag underneath his tunic.

His thoughts circled around Thalia, Edmund, and the girls endlessly as he put on his armor. He prayed he would see them soon. If the plan worked… If they were able to win the day, they could win the war. There would be no more chasing through the frozen lands of Ettinsmoor. There would be no more long, lonely nights shivering in his hammock. There would be no more watching his soldiers die when they should be going home to their loved ones. There would be no more Fell Giants lurking around the corners and turning his nightmares into reality. Narnia would be safe and he would be…he would be free, at last.

Peter tightened his sword belt and placed one gloved hand on top of the lion's head. For a single moment, he turned his thoughts to the One who held all their lives in His paws. _Aslan, be with us. Please let it work._

Then, without hesitation, Peter took up his shield and marched out of his tent. The snow was falling softly but steadily. Oreius was standing next to Firenze the Unicorn, both waiting on him. Peter met Oreius' gaze and gave a curt nod. He swung up onto Firenze's back and then looked at the General. A faint smile twisted his lips as he asked a very old question, "Are you with me?"

Oreius gave him that same look as he had at Beruna fourteen years before, the one that questioned how Peter even managed to ask him such a thing. Then the Centaur stated, "To the death."

Peter prayed it would not come to that even as the words and the promise behind them steadied him as much as when he had been on the brink of his first battle. He was no longer the inexperienced youth of thirteen. He was now a veteran warrior who had been trained so carefully under Oreius' tutelage that he suspected he could fight some of his enemies in his sleep (he and Edmund had often joked that such an achievement was Oreius' ultimate goal). He lowered his faceplate, shifted his weight forward, and readied himself for battle as Firenze's sure steps carried him to the chosen battlefield.

There was no more time for conversation. There was no more time for plans or questions.

This was it.

It was time to fight the Giants.

It was time to bring this campaign, this war to an end.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, we're finally nearing the end of this epic story. Almost time to bring Peter home. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	46. Chapter Forty-Six: Culhwch

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Six: Culhwch

25 Stormfall 1014

"Archers to the rear!"

Oreius noted with satisfaction as the archers fell back, allowing his heavier troops to sweep forward. Centaur lancers galloped, lances lowered. Oreius led them straight at the Giants. The Ettins had fallen into their trap perfectly. Now they were caught between two wings of the army. Archers and attacks by the Gryphons had harried them and drawn them into the waiting trap. Now it was time to finish this.

He drew his claymore as he charged one large Ettin. Bowling his opponent over before he had a chance to protect himself, Oreius ended the Ettin's miserable existence and then leapt away. He shouted orders to his men. They divided themselves into two groups again and pushed the Ettins into a tight circle. The Fell Giants did not fight well when they were in close quarters with one another. More often than not, one would elbow his fellow and the offended Giant would turn on him.

However, not all of the Giants fell for the ruse. Oreius barely avoided being skewered by a spear. Wheeling around, he found his attacker. Fury surged through his veins, rejuvenating him as he was confronted by the ugly sneers of Culhwch's two heads. Finally. He had not forgotten how much responsibility the two-headed Ettin bore for the injuries rendered to his colts last autumn. He had not forgotten Culhwch's role in the murders of his men. He had not forgotten.

One of the heads laughed while the other taunted, "Ah, the horse who pretends to be a man. Come, Centaur. Where is the pretty Nymph who wept over your body last year? I'll make her into a toy."

The fact that vile Ettin dared to even mention his wife made Oreius' temper boil further but he did not attack. Instead, he forced himself to remain cautious. The reminder of Alambiel served to remind him of his promise to her. He had promised to come home to her. He would not permit this Fell creature to force him to break his promise. Oreius tightened his grip on his claymore as he shouted, "Surrender, Culhwch, and the High King will show you mercy."

Again the vile laughter scraped across his ears. Culhwch spat a curse then he raised his spiked cudgel high. "I will not surrender to a puny human. I will not surrender to you either. I will bake you into pie but not until after you have seen that pretty Nymph become my newest toy. I will devour Narnia and then I shall rule her!"

"You will rule nothing."

Then, Oreius charged, a war cry on his lips and a prayer in his heart. He had almost reached Culhwch when he was forced to swerve. The spiked cudgel dragging a furrow into the snow. Something left behind in its trail caught Oreius' attention. Some sort of sap lingered in the snow. It was not blood or dirt or snow-mixed mud. Oreius' gaze flicked to the spikes. They were smeared with something, a sap of some sort…poison. There was only one way to confirm his suspicions.

As the two-headed Ettin once again swung his spiked cudgel at him, Oreius dodged between Culhwch and another Ettin. The other Ettin howled in pain as one of the spikes tore through his already patched and dirty leggings to scratch a long furrow down his hairy leg. Oreius galloped past the Giants then wheeled about in time to witness the Ettin choke as his own cudgel dropped into the snow and then he followed it. Definitely poisoned.

Culhwch remained untroubled by his comrade's death. Instead, he focused once more on Oreius. The Centaur refused to give any more ground. He planted his hooves and braced himself for the coming attack. The ground trembled as Culhwch ran straight at him. Ten paces. The cudgel rose. Five paces. Now.

Oreius charged. He galloped wide toward Culhwch's left, avoiding the strike of the cudgel, and then darted in to slice into the Ettin's ankle, severing the tendon. Culhwch's lurid curses filled the air as he stumbled and staggered, barely avoiding scratching himself. Oreius did not give him the chance to recover. With a wordless war cry, he leapt forward, slicing through the Giant's hamstrings and knocking him headlong into the snowbank.

Culhwch dropped his cudgel so he did not land directly on top of it. Yet, he was unable to completely avoid his poisoned weapon. Oreius backed away as Culhwch thrashed in response to the spike scratching his arm. A curse cut off mid-howl as the Ettin choked, both mouths frothing. All four eyes rolled back into his heads as he shuddered and then ceased moving altogether.

The remaining Ettins wailed and gnashed their teeth. The Narnians cheered. However, when they sought to engage the Ettins once more, they were confronted with only the fleeing backs of the survivors as they vanished into the mountains.

Oreius raised his claymore high as he reared, shouting, "Narnians! To the High King!"

The battle was not over yet. They yet needed to break the Harfang troops. The sounds of battle carried to Oreius' ears. He ignored the deepening shadows cast by the setting sun as he galloped toward the sounds. He needed to find his golden colt.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven: Pursuit

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Seven: Pursuit

Peter had never been more grateful for the Buffins than he was at that moment. The friendly Giants had successfully managed to block one of trails a small group of Harfangers led by a Giantess had gone down, thus preventing their ability to provide relief to those Fell caught in Peter's trap. Firenze galloped through the snow drifts, allowing Peter slash and cripple Harfangers with relative ease. His left arm was numb from the ringing blow that had glanced off his shield but at least he had not fallen off the Unicorn.

He tightened his grip on Rhindon as he recognized a Harfanger who was a head shorter than his fellows. His stained purple velvet tunic was patched with red, green, yellow, and even blue and orange fabric of varying patterns. Peter's stomach knotted as he realized the likely reason was that the clothing had been patched with the clothing of his various victims. The knots tightened as he caught sight of all the bones woven into the Giant's messily braided beard. Borak was an image of the hopelessness of the Harfang Giants. Staring at him, Peter could understand why Fea had been so determined to bring in fresh blood to her people. He understood but he would not and could not approve or support their means of achieving this goal.

"Borak!"

The Giant looked around at his shout until he could leer down at Peter. "Little King. Little King have you come to play with Borak's women?"

Short for a Giant was still taller than a man. Old memories of the past horrors he had suffered at the hands of the Harfangers pounded against him, almost wresting away his concentration, his ability to speak, his ability to fight back. Almost. _Aslan, give me strength!_ By some miracle, he found his voice again and it didn't shake as he shouted, "Borak, surrender now and I will spare you."

Borak let out a grating, oafish laugh. "Borak break little king. Then little king will play with Borak's women."

The Giant stretched his hand, not even attempting to fight. That is, until Peter swiped at him. Then, he jerked his hand. His expression darkened terribly but Peter would not run.

Horns sounded. Throaty cheers went up all around as his soldiers recognized the sweet clear notes of Narnia. Oreius had routed the Ettins. Peter remained focused on Borak, refusing to look away from the menace who had been plaguing him and his fair homeland for years now. That would end. He would not tolerate any more raids on the northern border, any more villages destroyed, and citizens murdered and then eaten. No more.

Peter leaned forward slightly, shifting his weight. Firenze bolted forward. Borak swung his hand at them. Peter slashed through the tender skin between his thumb and forefinger. Borak howled and yanked his hand back. Firenze neatly avoided the flailing and pierced the back of Borak's calf with his horn at the same time Peter slashed at Borak's distended gut. The Harfanger howled even louder and he swept his injured hand down at the source of his pain but Firenze had already galloped clear. The Unicorn reared then wheeled about to face the Giant once more.

Peter spied one of the Buffins running toward them, a determined look on his honest face. Yet, there was no clash with Borak. Instead, the Harfanger had already fled. Peter watched the Giant fleeing north as three other Harfangers who had escaped the Narnians' attack joined him.

"Sir Wolfsbane."

"General." Peter looked around the battlefield, noting that the remaining Harfangers had been killed already, and then he turned to the dark Centaur beside him. "We are not going to let him get away. Round up the troops. We pursue him now."

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31 Stormfall 1014

"We've nearly reached Harfang."

Peter nodded in response to Oreius' comment. They had been pursuing Borak for six days. He had suspected the cowardly king of the Harfang Giants would flee home. "Send in the Gryphons."

He had every hope that the Gryphons would be able to harass Borak and the few soldiers remaining to him to the point of preventing them from retreating inside the castle itself. A siege in the middle of winter would never work. Besides, he wanted to end this war, not delay it until next spring. Now they just had to hope the last stage of his plan would work.

Gryphons screamed in unison as they soared overhead, clutching boulders and in some case fallen logs. Peter climbed up onto a high plateau and watched as the Gryphons bombarded the Harfangers out of easy range of the protective walls of Harfang. _Please, Aslan, let this work._

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	48. Chapter Forty-Eight: Treaty, Wonder

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Eight: Treaty, Wonder

32 Stormfall 1014

Despite his hopes and prayers, Peter was still surprised that Borak had given up with only a half-day and full night of bombardment. Only Borak and one of his companions had survived the night. He watched the Giant warily as the defeated king was escorted by three Buffins to the open clearing they had chosen to conduct the negotiations in. It was situated out of range of Harfang but still within view. And, it was not so close to the army's camp that the Harfangers would be able to do much damage before being stopped should they manage to escape their guards.

Peter kept one hand on Rhindon as he addressed the prisoner. "Borak, King of Harfang, We, Peter Pevensie, Aslan's chosen High King and ruler of Narnia beside Our Royal Brother and Sisters, hereby charge you with the crimes of murder, cannibalism, robbery, rape of the land, forced invasion into Our sovereign territory, and abduction, etc. and so forth. Let it be known that the rightful sentence for these crimes is death. Nevertheless, because Narnia has responded to your hostility with armed force and has conquered you, your people, and your land, We will commute this sentence on the condition that you agree to the following terms of treaty. First, no Northern Giant, be he or she of Ettin or Harfang stock, shall cross into the kingdom of Narnia without announcement, escort by the Good Giants of Narnia, or permission from the Four. Second, the kingdom of Ettinsmoor is now a territory of the Narnian Empire and, as such, shall pay a yearly tribute to the Emperor of Narnia. Third, the Giants of Ettinsmoor must not provide aid to the enemies of Narnia, such as those witches in the far north. Fourth, the Giants of Ettinsmoor shall no longer hunt or consume any sentient being or native of Narnia. Fifth, the Giants of Ettinsmoor may continue in their self-government provided they do not breach any of the terms of this treaty. Any violation of the treaty will remove the protection of mercy offered on this day and Ettinsmoor and all her inhabitants will be destroyed." Peter paused, letting Borak have the time he needed to process his words. He really hoped Edmund had been right about the treaty. When Borak's eyes lit with understanding and a mix of anger and relief, Peter pressed his case. "Will you agree to the terms of surrender?"

The Harfanger tugged on his beard, further unravelling the one remaining braid. Then, he gave a slow nod. "Borak agrees. Harfang agrees, Little King."

"Good." Peter nodded to Bramblebuffin. As the Giant held out the treaty and provided an appropriately sized quill and inkwell for Borak's use, he watched in relief as Borak signed the treaty. Bramblebuffin knelt before Peter and he added his own name to the document. The royal seal would be added later but it was done. The war was over. They could finally go home.

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1 Yule 1014

"Shasta!"

Cor jumped in his seat, his quill dragging an ugly slash of ink across his words. He twisted around in his seat and stared in bewilderment as Aravis ran toward him. Without a word to Princess Alambiel, who had been reading over his arithmetic lesson (even though he usually did that one with a Squirrel by the name of Flittertwig), Aravis grabbed his hand and hauled him out of his seat. "Come, you must see!"

Cor let out a yelp as he barely caught himself before he landed on the floor. Scrambling to get his feet under him, he could only go along as Aravis dragged him out of the room and down the hall. "What's happened?"

"You must see it. You will not believe me otherwise."

He rather thought Aravis would knock him down if he ever accused her of making up tales. However, he was smart enough not to voice that thought. Aravis would likely knock him down if he did. Instead, he could only follow in her wake as they wove through Narnians and merchants from other lands until Aravis reached the main entrance.

The cold was the first thing he felt when they passed through the doors. Cor shivered as he desperately wished he had been able to put on more clothes before coming out here. He frowned at Aravis, who was wearing several layers of clothing including a hooded cape and a scarf and was looking very warm. She pointed up at the sky. "Look, Shasta! The rain has become solid!"

It was then that he noted the cold touch of something soft. It vanished almost immediately when it touched his skin and he reached up to find a wet spot on his cheek. Almost as though he had been crying, but he knew he was not. Cor looked up at the sky. The clouds were thick and grey but it wasn't raining, at least he didn't think it was. He had never seen white rain. And it didn't pool in puddles. Instead, it was slowly coating the ground in layers like the thick coverlet that covered his bed. He wondered if it was as soft as the coverlet. He held out his hand. Two fat drops of the white rain landed in his palm, looking almost pristine, before they vanished into normal rainwater.

Aravis tugged on his hand. "Look there are Bree and Hwin. Perhaps they know what it is." She dragged him across the courtyard.

Cor had the unpleasant realization that the shoes he had been wearing inside weren't really suited to the white rain, or whatever it was, because the moment he sank up to his ankles in the stuff it seeped through his shoes. A glance at Aravis proved she was wearing a pair of boots like Princess Alambiel favored. He had boots in his wardrobe…

His musings were interrupted when Aravis hailed the Horses and Bree said knowingly, "This is winter."

Cor stared up at the clouds and the falling white rain. "Does winter always fall from the sky?"

Bree whinnied and Cor flushed as he realized the Horse was laughing at him. He hated when he asked a dumb question. It was Hwin who answered in her soft voice, "Philip says the white stuff is snow. It is what happens to the rain when it is very cold out like today. Queen Lucy said that the Fauns and Nymphs are going to dance a snowball dance."

Cor wrapped his arms around himself and stamped his feet, teeth chattering as he asked, "W-what's a snowball dance?"

"I don't know yet."

He nearly fell over when Bree suddenly nudged him with his nose. The grey Horse was watching him carefully. "You are cold. You should find something warmer to wear before you become ill."

Cor glanced at Aravis but she was holding her mitten-covered hands out to catch the falling white r- the falling snow as Hwin moved to stand next to her. He nodded to Bree and then ran back inside. He slipped twice on his way to his quarters. As soon as he changed into warmer clothes (with the helpful advice of the Faun that King Edmund said was there to help him grow used to having a valet (even though he was still uncertain as to what a valet was exactly)), Cor was running back outside. When Corin and Peridan's twin sons joined them, he and Aravis both learned what a snowball was. Although, after taking six of them to his face, Cor couldn't see at all why the Fauns and Nymphs would want to dance with one.

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The shouts of foals and their laughter carried easily to her ears as Hwin picked her way up the snowy hill. It reminded her of walking across the desert only it was also different. She paused when she spied the Stallion who had appeared at the top of the hill. Then, before she lost her courage, she picked her way toward him. A whinny of amusement escaped the chestnut Stallion and she realized he was watching some commotion on the far side of the hill.

Her curiosity piqued, Hwin trotted closer. She stared in amazement to see King Edmund being tackled by none other than Queen Lucy. Then Queen Susan ran over and sat on his back as the sisters worked to pin their brother down. The dignified queen's laughter filled the air as she scooped handfuls of snow into the neck of her brother's tunic. The Just King thrashed and howled but the Queens remained unintimidated. If anything they laughed harder. Then twin howls filled the air. Hwin stared as King Edmund's Wolves came bounding through the snow. One of them yipped and barked, wagging his tail all the while, as he happily sat on the king while the other Wolf started digging up snow, flinging it over the three royals.

Philip snorted. "Foolish Wolf pups."

Hwin hesitantly observed, "Their majesties do not seem to object to them."

The chestnut Stallion swung his head around to look at her before he snorted again. "They have a high tolerance for such nonsense." He flicked his tail then his tone gentled as he asked, "How do you find your first Narnian winter?"

"It is very cold," Hwin admitted candidly. Then she surprised herself with her own daring as she asked, "Why don't you have a herd of your own, Philip?"

The Stallion snorted, yanking his head up, before he leveled her with a look she could not define. She immediately ducked her head and nickered, wishing she had kept silent. After all those years of forced silence, she now found it difficult to keep from voicing her thoughts even when it was unwise. "I'm s-sorry. Pray forgive me, I should not have asked such a personal question."

She wheeled about, ready to flee to the safety of the stables where she could hide from her shame and embarrassment, but Philip spoke. "Please do not leave." He came around in front of her, blocking her immediate escape. Surprisingly, his ears were not flattened with anger when she dared to look at him. "I have no herd of my own because I haven't met the right mare with which to settle down. My focus has been on taking care of my boy and making sure that he always comes home."

Sharp disappointment filled Hwin and she ducked her head further. "You are very good at it. Please excuse me. I should…I should check on Aravis and I think Bree needs help with Sha- I mean, Cor." She trotted around Philip and down the hill toward the stables before he could say anything else.

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2 Yule 1014

Edmund glared at his sisters. "Absolutely not."

Susan pinned him with a stern look. "Whyever not?"

"Because I am not going to let you parade me in front of greedy girls and their equally avaricious parents. I'm not taking anyone to the Christmas Day ball. Just because you can't torment Peter this way anymore doesn't mean that I'm going to let you try to marry me off to the next eligible maiden from an ally."

Susan shook her head. "Now, Ed, you're being ridiculous. I'm not trying to marry you off. I just thought it would be nice if you actually had a committed partner for the ball so that you aren't obliged to dance with all the unescorted ladies. And, if you pick someone you can tolerate so much the better."

"So much the better?" he echoed, hardly believing the words coming out of Susan's mouth. "And, just who might I ask is going to escort you and Lucy?"

Lucy piped up far too cheerfully in his opinion, "Tarrin is going to escort me. He asked me a week past."

"A week past?"

Before he could get far in his plotting on how to get Tarrin alone to find out just what his friend's intentions, Lucy leaned over and pinched his arm. Edmund jumped. "Ow! What was that for?"

His little sister shot him a warning pout. "Don't you even think of harassing Tarrin for asking me. I'm quite pleased that he did." Then, she brightened and Edmund braced himself for whatever her suggestions might be. He knew that look, after all, but he wasn't Peter so he wouldn't cave as easily. "Actually, why don't you ask Raisa to the ball?"

"What? Absolutely not." He had no intention of making a fool of himself with Raisa again. "I'm not going to give anyone, especially Peridan's oldest daughter, ideas that I might be looking for anyone for anything. I'll just escort you, Su. You're still sworn off suitors, aren't you? Isn't that why you've been wearing a veil every time one of those chaps shows up?"

His older sister glared at him with such ferocity it made one wonder why she was ever called 'Gentle'. "Edmund."

Ignoring his sister's warning, Edmund pushed back from the table and stood up. He shook his head once in disgust. "Why do you always try to pair me off with silly girls? And why would you think that I would want to escort Raisa?"

He heard the little gasp, the rustle of skirts, and the sound of fleeing steps. Edmund tensed. Susan's furious expression told him more than enough. "Edmund Alexander Pevensie! What has happened to your manners? You know better than to say such things. You are twenty-four years old. Act like it! Now go apologize to Raisa. Again."

Fuming, Edmund stormed out of the room. To his frustration, he couldn't find Raisa anywhere. By the time he found a page, she had been seen escaping to the library. He reluctantly went there. He ignored the Badger Elwood's grumblings as he searched the shelves. He found Raisa sitting on a low cushioned seat with a book in her hands. It was upside down.

He cleared his throat. "Lady Raisa, it seems I need to apologize to you. Again. I beg pardon for offering insult it was not my intent."

"It's of no matter. I'm just a silly girl, after all."

"What? No, I did not mean to lump you in with the emptyheaded ninnies my sisters keep forcing me to escort to banquets and balls."

Raisa raised her book to completely hide all but her dark red hair from sight. "I think you made yourself perfectly clear. I had no desire to be escorted by you, anyway, and I pity your sister for being forced to bear your company. Now please go away. I don't care to be insulted a third time, on accident or not." Then she hopped up from her stool, finally lowering her book to reveal her red face, before she flounced away.

Edmund bit back a groan. Not again. More frustrated than ever, he stormed outside. Snow was falling heavily as he stomped down to the stables. Philip poked his head out of his stall. "King Edmund?"

Edmund grabbed a currycomb and brush then entered the stall. He huffed as he brushed Philip's winter coat. "Why do girls have to be so frustrating?"

Philip sounded rather morose as he responded, "Mares are never easy to understand."

"I didn't mean to insult her."

The Horse huffed. "She seems to have taken insult anyway." He snorted and shook his mane. "Females."

"Who can understand them?" Edmund muttered as he kept brushing Philip's coat. He wished he could just stay in the stable. It was a lot less complicated than living in the palace right now. Maybe Susan would let him skip the ball…

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Woohoo! Almost there! Only a handful of chapters left in the story. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	49. Chapter Forty-Nine: A Ways to Go

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Forty-Nine: A Ways to Go

3 Yule 1014

Peter reached up with one gloved hand to tug his hood closer. The wind bit into him, stinging his face with arrows of cold. He tugged his muffler up as he continued to trudge forward through the snow. He glanced over his shoulder at Frost's bent head. The mare's black coat was practically white with all the snow. Poor girl and they had only been marching south for two days.

He glanced to his left where Oreius was marching next to him. The Centaur's red cloak provided sharp contrast against the snow. He didn't seem to be bothered by the cold. Of course, Peter wasn't sure that even the weather would dare to try to inconvenience the Centaur personally. Beyond slowing the army's general progress, anyway.

Peter fixed his eyes on the horizon, imagining what Cair Paravel would look like, gleaming beside the Eastern Sea. He walked toward her, his home. Then, the vision changed. Thalia, sweet, smiling, welcoming Thalia, with her arms outstretched and his name on her lips. New energy surged through him at the thought of seeing his Flower again. It had been so long since he had seen her, talked to her, listened to her soft voice, and held her in his arms. _Oh Aslan, let us get home soon. It's finally over. We just need to get home._

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7 Yule 1014

"Do you think the army will make it by Christmas, Kat?"

Thalia froze in her seat, her eyes darting to where the Princess Royal was playing chess with King Edmund. She was faintly aware of her mother taking her hand and squeezing it comfortingly as though there was the faintest wind rustling through the leaves, barely moving them but there all the same. Alambiel did not look away from the game as she moved a knight. "Depends on the weather and on injuries and on any number of possible delays that I don't feel like listing. It is possible."

Lucy cheered.

Edmund glanced at his sister. "Calm down, Lu. It's a possibility, not a guarantee. We haven't heard from the campaign in a while so we've no specific evidence on which to base any estimations for their arrival." He smirked at Susan where she was knitting. "Much to Su's chagrin."

The eldest queen rolled her eyes at him. "I doubt Peter will stay away any longer than necessary." She turned a smile on Thalia then as she added, "He'll be back for your sake, Thalia."

"I'm pretty sure most of the married warriors are coming home for their wives' sake. Well, unless they're really coming home for a bouncing bundle of joy."

"Edmund!" scolded Susan. "Stop teasing Thalia. Of course, Peter wants to see her. And, perhaps you should remember your own words to the Greybacks before you say anything else about bundles of joy. Honestly. Those husbands who return to wives and children shall be blessed. And those husbands who return solely to their wives shall be just as blessed." She frowned at her brother. "Now act your age or Peter will beat you black and blue when he returns, even if it's on Christmas Day. And, I shall let him!"

"I don't know how to act my age," Edmund protested, a glint of laughter lurking in his dark eyes. "I've never been this old before!"

"Edmund!"

Thalia blushed and looked down even as she tried to hide a slight smile. She did not mind her brother-in-law's teasing, truly. She knew him better than that now. Still, she couldn't help the whisper that escaped her as soft as a spring zephyr, "I just wish I knew he was safe."

Everyone grew quiet. She suspected the ivy of worry clung to their trees as much as it did hers. It had been three weeks since the last exchange of mail. She knew there had been a blizzard that had delayed news that last time but even Tris had returned from the northern outpost without any messages. That after she had waited for a sennight for any messengers from the north. Thalia looked down at her embroidery. She hoped Peter would like his gift. She hoped he would be home for Christmas.

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8 Yule 1014

"Oreius!"

The Centaur stopped in his tracks, looking back toward him. Peter handed Frost's reins to a Satyr and then jogged up the trampled path until he could reach his General. "How long until we reach the ravines?"

"Two days if we stop early, one if we do not."

Peter nodded. "Then let's press on as far as possible today, General. I'm sure we are all willing to accept weariness if that meant we get home sooner."

Whatever Oreius' reply would have been, he never knew. In that moment, a cry rose behind them. Then a large spear buried itself in the snow only three paces in front of him. Oreius grasped him by the cloak and yanked him back. Peter stumbled and fell into the snow, barely catching himself with his hands before he landed on his face. He scrambled back to his feet, wrenching Rhindon from the sheath as he did so.

More boulders and spears were thrown at the army as the soldiers scrambled to form a defense against this unexpected onslaught. Twelve ragged looking Ettins and Harfangers had ambushed them. A Giantess dressed in black appeared on the ridge. Her wild appearance was terrifying and startling. Peter narrowed his eyes as he recognized her from the initial battle with Borak. She raised a war spear and pointed at them. "Kill them! Bring me the Son of Adam!"

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Dun dun duuuuuuun! Don't hate me, I just couldn't let the journey home be completely uneventful. That would be boring! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	50. Chapter Fifty: Unpleasantries

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifty: Unpleasantries

8 Yule 1014

Edmund rolled his eyes when he saw yet another couple stealing kisses under the mistletoe. At least, it wasn't Tarrin and Lucy again. It was probably a good thing Peter wasn't home yet because he'd have banished Tarrin by now since Edmund had caught the two under the mistletoe twice a day since the decorations went up on the first. There was a shout of good-natured laughter then Corin shouted, "You have to kiss her, Cor! It's tradition."

"But, I don't want to kiss her," Cor protested.

Edmund stifled a laugh of his own as Aravis responded by eying the mistletoe sprig with disgust and then asking, "Why, O Prince, are people compelled to kiss each other by a weed?"

Corin snorted. "Because."

"Because why?" his twin asked, looking both befuddled and worried.

The boy didn't seem to have a ready answer this time but then his eyes lit on Edmund and a huge mischievous grin spread across his face. "Why don't you ask King Edmund? He'll know. But, no moving!"

Neither Cor nor Aravis looked very happy with that pronouncement and Edmund managed to control his amusement enough to go over to them when Corin waved at him. That imp immediately demanded, "Tell them they have to kiss, King Edmund. It's tradition."

Edmund gave him a warning look, which only made the boy grin even more widely. Before he could decide what to say, Cor interrupted, "But why is it a tradition?"

"Umm… Because it's a way of showing affection and because the first king and queen of Narnia established the tradition."

Aravis scowled at him, her dark eyes flashing. "Why is this little weed so important?"

"It's part of the Christmas tradition. Shows good will and friendship."

"But, you said it showed affection," Cor protested.

Edmund cleared his throat. "That too. Look, just give each other a little kiss-"

"On the lips," Corin added with wicked glee.

"Can't it be on the cheek?" Aravis asked.

Edmund glared at Corin as he replied before the brat could say anything else. "Yes, but that's only if you're related or married to someone else." He glanced at the two children and sighed, "Look, it's a quick little kiss and then you can practice avoiding the mistletoe like the rest of us."

Cor and Aravis stared at each other, the lad already bright red. Then Aravis grabbed his arm, yanked him forward, and kissed him. Cor's eyes went wide then he promptly landed on his rump when Aravis shoved him away. Edmund choked on a laugh as the Calormene girl stalked away with her head held at a proud tilt even as she muttered about stupid boys and obnoxious weeds.

Edmund glanced at where Cor was still sitting on the floor, looking rather stunned. When the boy looked up, Edmund shrugged. "Don't even try to understand girls, Cor. It's absolutely impossible." He paused then added, "And, this is why I always make it a rule to avoid getting caught under the mistletoe."

Cor looked from him to his brother (who was too busy laughing to contribute to the conversation) and then leaned back to peer in the direction Aravis had gone. Edmund wasn't sure if the boy was looking for her or afraid she was going to come back. Then, Cor let out a heavy breath, pushing a hand through his blond hair. "Aravis is going to punch me for this."

Despite his best attempt, Edmund couldn't quite muffle his laughter completely. Instead, it came out in a low chuckle. "That's girls for you, Cor."

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A bellow rent the air, giving Peter the half-second of warning he needed to dodge to his left as a cudgel slammed into the snow. He whirled, Rhindon flashing. He felt some satisfaction when his blade was halted by thick flesh and the Giant shouted in pain. He was not going to be prevented from going home now. Not when he had finally earned the right to go home. Anger at these Fell Giants who had taken him away from his family for so long pounded through his veins giving him strength despite the cold and weariness of battle. A war cry tore from his throat as he charged the Giant. Without regard for the lunacy of his attempt, Peter scrambled atop a boulder and jumped at the Giant. He buried Rhindon up to the hilt in the Giant's almost non-existent neck. The Giant collapsed, carrying Peter with him.

Again came the hateful cry, "Kill them! Bring me the Son of Adam! Bring him to me!"

The Giantess. The one who had to be Morrigan. Peter scrambled to his feet, only somewhat aware of a throbbing in his shoulder, and wrenched Rhindon free. He scanned the valley turned battlefield, searching for her. She was the one pushing them all. He had to defeat her. Then he could go home.

There. He spied her again. The Giantess dressed in black with chains and jewels adorning her tattered skirts. There was an air of evil about her, one that reminded him of Jadis. Peter tightened his grip on Rhindon. He had no idea where Frost had gone, though he desperately hoped the black mare had not fallen victim to the Fell Giants, and could not gallop up to Morrigan. He eyed the war spear she was wielding against two Buffins, successfully holding them off and wounding one. Stealth, then.

He jogged toward her, making sure to stay at her back. He would present himself properly when he was close enough to have a fighting chance. He just needed to-

"Found you!" A horrid, stupid laugh grated against Peter's ears as he was suddenly snatched off his feet. He stared into a gaping maw full of crooked, sharp, and yellowing teeth. The piggish eyes above the bulbous nose were alight with cruel delight. "So hungry!"

His grip tightened on Peter painfully. Peter gasped as he felt his bones rubbing against each other. _Aslan!_

Morrigan's voice filled the air again. "No! I need him alive!"

The Giant ignored her. Peter managed to raise Rhindon and then brought it down hard on the Giant's wrist, just behind the bone, severing through flesh and tendon. He lost his grip on his sword when the Giant flung him through the air. He landed in a deep snowbank, but heard a sickening crack and a surge of pain enveloped his head before he was dragged into darkness.

A rough, oversized hand grasped his leg and pulled. Peter opened his eyes with a cry as his knee protested, straining. He was confronted with the same ugly visage as before. The Giant, an Ettin, leered at him. "Squish him. Turn him into jam."

Dark laughter filled his ears as the Ettin released his leg only to place his hand over Peter's torso and pressed. Snow rose on either side, he could feel it and a mix of mud and snow seeping into his clothing, chilling him. He would have screamed as the Ettin kept pressing down on him but he had no breath to spare.

His right arm was the only thing he could move. He frantically flailed his hand about, feeling for Rhindon or anything he might use as a weapon. His questing fingers only found snow.

Peter groaned and his vision was ringed with darkness as the Ettin pressed down even harder, laughing odiously. He leered down at him. "Down, down, down, we go! Turn man into jam!"

Thalia. Edmund. Susan. Lucy. The names and faces of his family skittered across his darkening vision even as he continued to gasp for air. Even in the midst of his pain, he wished he had been able to return home properly. He wished he had been able to kiss Thalia one last time. He wished he had been able to hug his sisters one more time. He wished he had been able to tease Edmund one last time. Thalia, he wished…

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Muwhahahahahahahahahahaaaaa!**


	51. Chapter Fifty-One: Onward

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifty-One: Onward

"Peter!"

His eyes flickered and then, suddenly, he could breathe again. Peter took a deep gasping breath and then another and another. He opened his eyes in time to see several Centaurs and one of his Tigers harrying the Ettin away. Oreius was standing over him. The Centaur's stern features were now filled with concern as he gazed down at him. "Do not move, colt," he warned. Then he raised his head and shouted, "Firenze!"

The Unicorn reached them just as Peter began to feel he could breathe normally again. He staggered to his feet only to collapse as his left knee buckled. Or, he would have collapsed if Oreius had not caught him. The Centaur didn't say a word as he gently placed Peter on Firenze's back as easily as though he were a boy of thirteen again. A moment later, Rhindon was back in Peter's sheath. He heard Oreius' order, "Take him behind the archers. The Giants are nearly routed."

"No." He cautiously braced both hands against the Unicorn's neck, burying his gloved fingers in the white mane in an attempt to distract himself from the throbbing in his right shoulder and upper arm. "No. We need to defeat Morrigan. I won't let her stop me from going home."

Without waiting for Oreius' reply, Peter kicked Firenze in the sides and shouted, "Find her!"

The Unicorn leapt forward, dodging the few Giants still battling against his troops. Then she appeared again. Tall, terrible, and reveling in death. Peter tightened his grip on Firenze's mane.

"Take her left. I shall take her right." He glanced over to see Oreius galloping beside them. The Centaur gave him a curt nod as he drew his twin swords. "To the death."

"Not today," Peter muttered, wincing slightly as his shoulder protested when he drew Rhindon. He clamped his hand around the sword's hilt. "Go, Firenze."

The Unicorn veered to the left. He saw Morrigan turn to face them, her face a vision of fury and pleasure as she crowed, "You cannot defeat me. I am Morrigan! I rule Harfang! I will make you sire the new blood for Harfang then I will bake you in a pie!"

Peter grit his teeth. "Never." The single word was too quiet for the Giantess to hear but it steadied him almost as much as Oreius' renewed oath to stay with him to the bitter end if necessary. But it wasn't going to be necessary. He wasn't going to see any more soldiers, subjects and friends, killed today. This would not be permitted to go on. He sat a little straighter on Firenze's back and raised Rhindon high as he shouted, "For Aslan!"

They charged. Morrigan swept her war spear toward them. Peter crouched low over Firenze's neck. He could hear the spear whistle overhead and then Morrigan let out a cry of pain. She cursed and he knew that Oreius had already made his first mark. Peter muttered, "Closer, Firenze, we need to get inside her defenses."

The Unicorn sped even faster, his spiral blue horn lowered at the Giantess. Peter heard the sound of ripping fabric as Firenze's horn tore through her skirt. He slashed at her with Rhindon, scoring a slight hit against her leg as Firenze galloped past her. They circled her, passing Oreius as he did the same.

Morrigan lashed out again, this time with the haft of her spear. Peter tensed as he watched her spear collide with Oreius' side with enough force to knock the Centaur off his feet. He didn't think. He pressed his heels against Firenze's side as he ignored his shoulder's protest to raise Rhindon high. He hacked off the point of the spear. Morrigan fell back a step. She glared at him. "You will not die until you have replaced my children. Three you killed, the fourth you forced into cowardice, he would be better off dead. Come to me, Son of Adam."

"Never." Peter wasted no more time for bantering or negotiations. He spied movement out of the corner of his eye and readied himself.

Morrigan screamed and staggered toward him, one hand coming up to press against her side where Oreius had stabbed her. Firenze reared, giving Peter the extra bit of reach he needed. He cut off Morrigan's screams as he rammed Rhindon into her gaping mouth. The sword was wrenched free of his grasp as Morrigan turned away. She staggered two steps and then collapsed.

Silence reigned for a long moment. Then, cheers went up but Peter was only vaguely aware of them. He heard his name and looked up. That choice proved his downfall as the entire world titled when he raised his head and then he felt himself toppling. The snowy ground rushed up to meet him.

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11 Yule 1014

"Your Majesty, you must lie still." The Centauress glared at him in warning as she adjusted his sling. Again. "It would take only a short fall for you to aggravate your leg and arm to the point of requiring bedrest for several weeks at least."

Peter remained mutinous. "Just answer the question, Marigold. Can I travel? And, by travel I mean sitting atop Frost, not being carried in a litter."

The Centauress frowned, her eyes darting from him to where Oreius was waiting her verdict. After three days, the snowstorm that had caught up with them had finally abated and there was still enough daylight left to press on if the campaign's head healer would agree. Peter grudgingly admitted it was better than if Oreius had fetched Mumpwort to assess his condition. If only because none of his limbs were falling off during the lecture. Finally, Marigold flicked her tail and then offered a curt nod. "You may travel. However, we must maintain a slow pace to accommodate all of the injured, including yourself, my king."

Peter didn't wait to hear another word before he carefully got out of his hammock. "Give the order, General. It's time we went home."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	52. Chapter Fifty-Two: Yuletide

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifty-Two: Yuletide

24 Yule 1014

"Philip? Might I- Might I speak to you?"

Philip lifted his head in surprise at the soft-spoken question. "Hwin?" He snorted, scolding himself for allowing his surprise to show as the little Mare pranced back slightly, obviously nervous. He immediately gentled his tone and lowered his head in an attempt not to appear quite so intimidating to her. "How may I be of service, Madam?"

The little Mare pawed at the stable floor and then she ducked her head even further. "Oh, I know I am being very forward and you will probably think the worst of me. Yet, I simply must ask. I must know. Why haven't you pursued me? I know you already mentioned you had not met the right Mare before but I had hoped…" She trailed off painfully and turned her head away, but he still caught her strained whisper, "I thought perhaps you liked me."

"I do," he hurried to assure her. "Hwin, I-" He let out a low whinny as he cautiously approached her and then stretched out his neck in order to nudge her finely arched neck. "Dear lady, I have made a mess of things, it would seem. I did not pursue you because I thought you were already being courted by Bree."

Hwin gave a little whicker of laughter. "Nonsense. Bree is far too…well, too Bree. We might have some similarities, I suppose, both being captives and then escaping to the North and Narnia. Yet, he has been a great warhorse and I do not think he will ever forget it. I…I am not suited to him nor is he suited to me."

Philip hesitated, feeling far more nervous than he had before any of the battles he had carried his boy into and out of, before he moved a little closer and placed his muzzle near hers. He lowered his voice to a whisper and asked, "If no other Stallion has been fortunate enough to win your attention, I beg the privilege to court you, Hwin."

She didn't answer right away. Her large, dark liquid eye gave no hint to her thoughts before she lowered her lid and her eye was partially hidden by her lashes. Then, she bobbed her head. "Yes, Philip. I would like it if you pursued me. I would like it very much, indeed."

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25 Yule 1014

The great hall was festooned with ribbons, wreaths of holly, sprigs of mistletoe, and decorated Christmas trees. Yet, there were not as many people present as there usually was for the Christmas Day ball. Edmund observed the crowd as he waltzed with Susan (she had made it clear he was obliged to do so as her escort). Thalia hadn't come to the ball at all since she had wakened that morn feeling rather unwell. He suspected the only reason the girls hadn't already gone to check on her again was because her mother, Theia, was with her.

His thoughts were distracted from thoughts of his sister-in-law by a sight that made his jaw drop. Philip and Hwin were nuzzling each other. Lion's Mane! Philip was courting Hwin!

He closed his jaw with a snap as he and Susan waltzed back in the other direction. Lucy and Tarrin were dancing nearby. Edmund gave Tarrin an obligatory big brother glare and felt some satisfaction when Tarrin slackened his grip on Lucy's waist. That is, until he had to bite his tongue to keep from yelping when Susan pinched him. Lucy shot him a look that promised a reprimand too before she grasped Tarrin's hand and coaxed him to hold her as he had been.

Susan hissed, "Edmund, leave them alone."

He frowned at her. "She's too young."

His older sister rolled her eyes. "She's twenty-two. He's been in love with her for at least four years, I'm certain of it. Just let the poor boy be. You're getting to be as overprotective as Peter."

Edmund twirled his sister and then drew her back into his arms as they swept in a graceful circle. "Don't be silly. I haven't banished him yet." He glanced at Lucy and Tarrin just as the watching crowd clapped and cheered. He groaned as he realized his sister was at the center of the merriment. She was standing underneath a sprig of mistletoe. Tarrin was staring at her with an expression that reminded Edmund disturbingly of Peter when he was looking at Thalia. Tarrin was going to be banished the moment Peter saw that look aimed at their sister.

Then, Tarrin leaned down and kissed Lucy on the lips. Fortunately, for him, the kiss was brief and quite chaste. Good. Edmund hadn't really wanted to skewer his friend.

Susan smiled with such satisfaction that he almost asked what she was plotting. However, he decided he really didn't want to know what matchmaking schemes his sister was cooking up now. The dance ended and he led her to the side like a good escort. "Do you want me to bring you something to drink?"

"Have you apologized to Raisa?"

The sudden change in subject made him scowl. "Yes, several times."

"Well, you haven't finished."

"What?"

Before he could figure out just what Susan was going on about, she beckoned to someone. "Raisa. Merry Christmas."

Edmund plastered a pleasant expression on his face as he turned to face the young lady who was now his personal vexation. She curtsied. "Merry Christmas, Queen Susan, King Edmund." Her curious gaze focused on Su. "Was there something I might do for you, My Queen?"

"Yes," Susan said brightly. "You may partner with Edmund for this next dance. I'm in need of a brief respite and it wouldn't do for Lucy to be the only Royal dancing right now."

Knowing Su wouldn't be dissuaded (and he would pay in the morn for any protests his sister deemed unseemly), Edmund extended his hand to Raisa. For a moment, he thought she would refuse but that hope died when she placed her small hand in his. He led her out to join the other dancers and they quickly fell into the familiar steps of another waltz. He stared at the top of Raisa's head as she seemed determined to keep her own gaze on his silver tunic.

Edmund cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I've offended you so often, Lady Raisa."

"You haven't. I just haven't wanted to talk to you." She glanced up at him, offering a perfect view of her fiery blush, as she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I did not meant that the way it sounded, Your Majesty."

"I suspected as much," he assured her. He hesitated then asked, "Are you enjoying being back in Narnia when I'm not insulting you?"

She was staring at his tunic again but he heard a hint of a smile in her voice when she answered quietly, "I am. I have missed being able to go into the library whenever I wish and reading whatever books I wish and taking them back to my quarters if I wish. It's strange. I had forgotten how many privileges I had gained here in Cair Paravel until I lost them." She glanced up at him, her warm brown eyes wide and a fiery blush still in her cheeks. "However, I doubt you wish to hear me prattle about books all the time. I have been trained in the art of conversation. Although, it doesn't always seem to help me when I'm with you." She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening even further.

Edmund grinned. "I've been known to unsettle people."

Raisa nodded then caught herself and shook her head. "No, Your Majesty. I mean, I- That is, have you heard from your brother lately?"

His grin vanished as he recalled the worry of so many weeks without word. "No, we have not."

"I'm sorry. I remember you were so close to each other." She looked up at him, an oddly appealing empathy shining in the depths of her warm brown eyes. "You must miss him very much."

"I do. I-"

Edmund cut himself off as the music stopped and he was obliged to come to a standstill. Then the crowd cheered and shouted for a kiss. When a stealthy glance proved that the other couples were all staring at him, he had a bad feeling. He glanced up. There was the treacherous little weed as Aravis had dubbed it earlier that month. He looked back down at Raisa. He cleared his throat. "With your permission?"

She gave the tiniest of nods.

Edmund leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips. The crowd cheered and he straightened as hastily as he could without being rude. Raisa's eyes were wide but she didn't seem upset or even embarrassed. Her eyelids fluttered closed and then she gave a little sigh. She opened her eyes again when he started to lead her away from the dancing but he noted she still didn't seem to be paying very much attention to her surroundings.

After he left her in Lucy's capable hands, Edmund slipped through the crowd. As he escaped the Great Hall, he could only hope that he hadn't just gotten himself in trouble with Peridan. Why did it have to mistletoe? Why did it have to be Raisa?

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Bree watched the pageantry of a Narnian Christmas with a bit more awe than he would have admitted if anyone had asked. It was beautiful and untainted by the crueler customs he had witnessed practiced during some of the Calormene festivals (when he wasn't already in the stables being tended by grooms). He glanced over at where Philip and Hwin were speaking, their muzzles nearly touching. He was happy for Hwin. The chestnut Stallion would obviously take very good care of her and she was obviously happy.

He snorted, flicking his tail, when someone nudged his flank.

"Oh!" The breathy voice belonged to a pretty little filly whose bay coat was almost red. She arched her neck and then gave a whickering laugh. "I'm sorry, Bree. I was watching the dancers."

One of Bree's ears went back as he tried to place the Mare. "Have we met?"

She nickered. "Oh no, not officially. But I have heard of you. My herd lives here in Cair Paravel."

"Forgive me, madam, but I do not know who you are. I am yet unfamiliar with the native herd of Cair Paravel and-"

"Oh yes, of course. How silly of me." She interrupted before he could finish speaking.

Bree couldn't think of a thing to say. However, this did not seem to matter to the filly as she cheerfully stated, "My name is Penelope." Then she bobbed her head and pointed her muzzle in the direction of the other Horses and four-footed Beasts. "Oh look, they are about to begin a dance for us. Will you dance with me, Bree?"

Indeed, even as she spoke and turned her entreating gaze on him, he noted the humans, Fauns, Satyrs, Nymphs, and Dwarves leaving the center of the room. In their place came three pairs of Horses, including Philip and Hwin. Penelope nudged him. "Shall we? It's a very simple dance. Just watch Philip."

Without really knowing why, Bree found himself agreeing. At least, if Philip was participating, then he knew for certain that this dance was truly something that free Horses did.

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"Do you wish to dance, cousin?"

Alambiel shook her head. She had already danced once with Stormwind. It felt too much like a betrayal to dance at the Christmas Day ball without Oreius. She forced herself to smile at her husband's cousin. "No, thank you, Stormwind. I think I shall retire now."

"So soon? It is still two hours off midnight."

His concern touched her but it still wasn't enough to sway her. Alambiel smiled a little bigger as she rested a hand on his forearm. "I'm afraid I do not have the Christmas spirit to remain any longer. Besides, shouldn't you be keeping an eye on Firemoon since you enjoy heckling him so much?"

"It is not as much fun now that he's asked Tanith to marry him and she has agreed," he complained.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that won't stop you much."

"Hardly at all," Stormwind agreed, grinning widely. Then, his gaze softened as he covered her hand with his own. "If you are insistent, fair cousin, then I shall bid you good night. Rest well, Alambiel." He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Stormwind." Alambiel slipped her hand free of his and then left the Great Hall. Her mind was not on her favorite of Oreius' cousins or on Firemoon and Tanith's pending marriage. Her mind and heart were consumed with thoughts of Oreius. It had been too long without word. Even the outposts had been slow in sending reports due to the snowstorms of growing intensity. At the moment, they were almost a fortnight behind in news. And, the news from the campaign was even worse. It was non-existent.

She let herself into her too large and too empty quarters. Every time she did so, she hoped to find Oreius standing there waiting for her. But, he wasn't there as usual. The Kentauri was going to be in a lot of trouble if he didn't get home soon. And, that was on top of all the things 'Uncle' had told Solon about her.

Alambiel sighed, even the plots of revenge on the Kentauri for carless statements and teasing weren't enough to distract her. She walked into the bedchamber and immediately crossed to the balcony doors. Stepping out onto the snow-covered balcony, she crossed to the railing and peered north. But there were no soldiers or missing husbands materializing out of the darkness. "Come on, Kentauri. Where are you?" She gripped the railing, ignoring the cold snow, as she murmured quietly, "Come home soon."

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It was only half past tenth hour when Lucy noticed Susan was speaking with a little Hummingbird. Hope flared in her breast. Maybe it was news about Peter. She set her empty mug on the table and smiled brightly at Tarrin. "Thank you for escorting me tonight, Tarrin, and for the hot chocolate. I've had a wonderful time."

He smiled back at her and her heart gave an odd little lurch. "I'm glad, Queen Lucy."

Lucy impulsively grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I think I should check on Susan. Would you excuse me?"

"Of course." He rose as she stood. He opened his mouth and she paused, but then he didn't say anything. Lucy didn't allow herself to examine the disappointment she felt. Instead, she immediately stuffed it down and locked it away. There was no room for disappointment at Christmas, after all (other than a slight twinge that Peter and the army hadn't made it back in time to spend it with them).

She reached Susan's side just as the Hummingbird flitted away. Mindful of the other families awaiting word, she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Was it about Peter? Is he almost home?"

"No, it wasn't from Peter." Susan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Lucy immediately returned her hug. She still wished it was great big hug from Peter. Susan spoke again. "Lu, why don't we go up to our quarters? Ed's already run off and I think Kat left at the top of the hour."

Lucy also observed the Great Hall. Though, there were still Narnians dancing and visiting with each other, many of the families of those soldiers still on campaign had already left. Even as she watched, a family of Coyotes and a young Gryphon left. She hugged Susan again. "I think that's a lovely idea and we can check on Thalia too. See if she wants anything. Maybe take her mind off Peter."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	53. Chapter Fifty-Three: Home

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifty-Three: Home

Cair Paravel stood quiet, its parapets and walls gleaming with white snow beneath the moonlight. Peter resisted the urge to sag in the saddle as the massive gates opened to receive Narnia's army home. Home. Thank Aslan, he was home.

They had pushed themselves to reach home by Christmas and, although it was closing in on midnight, they had made it. Thank Aslan. Oreius cleared his throat and Peter started then offered the General a sheepish grin. He had been too busy thinking about surprising his family, about surprising Thalia, to urge his horse forward and his soldiers were waiting for their High King to enter first. A touch of the heel and Frost shook her snow-dusted mane then trotted forward, her delicate ears pricking as she lifted her muzzle and whinnied. It had been nine months, nine horribly long months, but even Frost remembered the scent of home.

Peter nodded to Oreius and the Centaur dismissed the troops. He wanted to leap out of the saddle and race up the stairs into the Cair until he found his wife and siblings. But, his injuries from that last battle prevented such desires. Instead, Peter had to content himself with stiffly dismounting. His leg still ached and his knee threatened to buckle as he steadied himself against Frost's saddle with his good hand.

Gathering his strength, he nodded to the Faun who had come to collect the mare and then he slowly but surely made his way up the stairs. Once he faltered as his boot came down on a slick patch but a large hand steadied him. He cast a look of silent gratitude over his shoulder at Oreius. The Centaur gave a curt nod then helped him into the Cair.

Although his General released him once inside, the Centaur continued to remain near until they reached the crossroads where one corridor led to Oreius' quarters and the other led up to the Royal Wing. Peter grinned when the General hesitated. "Go on, Oreius. No doubt, you're as eager to see your lady wife as I am mine."

"You are still unsteady, my King. Remember Marigold's warnings. A bad fall could worsen your leg and your shoulder to the point of requiring bed rest for months."

"I remember." He glanced at his Tigers, Bast was still nursing a bad cut to her ribs and should have spent more time resting than keeping an eye on him and Babur simply looked tired. They both had refused to leave his side even when he wanted to send Bast back to Narnia with the other grievously wounded soldiers. Knowing those two, they wouldn't pry themselves away until _after_ they saw that he was safe in his own bed. Still, he had no desire to keep any of his soldiers away from a reunion with the loved ones they had been parted from for so long.

Before he could think of a way to convince Oreius that he didn't need to accompany him all the way to his quarters too, a shout rang out. "Peter!"

Peter grinned as he turned to see Edmund loping down the hall. "I should have known you'd be the easiest to find, Ed." He scanned his little brother and added, "Still skinny, I see."

"Athletic not skinny." Edmund's dark eyes narrowed as he pointed at the bandage wrapped around his head. "Why can't you ever manage to duck?"

"I did duck. This was from the landing." He didn't tell his brother that the Ettin who had thrown him had nearly crushed him into the ground. Only the wet muck the battlefield had turned into had saved him from being flattened like a bug before Oreius had rallied enough soldiers to beat the brute back. He still dreamed of that moment the most. Forcing himself to focus on his brother, who was speaking with Oreius, Peter smiled as soon as the Centaur bowed then took his leave. "Thank you for that, I was worried Kat would come after me for delaying Oreius' homecoming." Slinging his good arm around his brother's shoulders, Peter steered him back the way he'd come. "Now, where are the girls? Still gathered around the Christmas Tree?"

"Lucy and Susan are taking care of some last minute things with the ball."

"And Thalia?"

Edmund didn't answer right away. Peter stiffened as fresh worry coursed over him. "Where is she?"

"She's in your quarters, of course. Don't be such a ninnywort, Pevensie. If something had happened to Thalia, don't you think I would have told you?"

Peter snorted then walked faster. Edmund kept in step, making him wonder if there was something his little brother wasn't telling him. "You know I am going to see Thalia, yes?"

"Any husband who wanted to keep his head on his shoulders would."

"Not funny, brother mine."

"It's true, isn't it?" Edmund smirked.

Peter rolled his eyes, glad that the swelling from his twin black eyes had gone down. He knew he looked fairly disreputable with his bandages, mussed hair, and fading bruises but at least he was walking under his own power. "I also don't intend to leave my quarters until tomorrow noon at the earliest."

"An admirable goal."

Peter stopped in the middle of the hall, just feet from the doors to his and Thalia's chambers. "Edmund?"

"Yes, brother mine?"

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What are you planning?"

Pale hands rising to press against his silver tunic, Edmund widened his eyes innocently. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Why are you following me?"

Edmund smirked. "I'm just making sure you remember the way and I didn't want you to faint or anything."

"Why would I faint? I don't faint."

"We'll see."

Peter cast him another suspicious look but Thalia was only feet away. And he was quite ready to see his Flower and hold her in his arms again. Turning on his heel, he marched to the doors and opened them. "Thalia!"

His Flower was sitting with her back to the doors. Her mother was sitting next to her and Tuulea and Alithia were also present along with Susan and Lucy. Peter frowned and opened his mouth to ask why they were all here but then Thalia turned to look at him. Her light green eyes lit with joy but the ivory skin of her brow was beaded with sweat. Still, there was naught but pleasure in her voice as she cried, "Peter! You came home in time."

"In time for what?" No sooner had the question left his lips than his Flower stood with her mother's help. Peter's jaw dropped open as he took in the sight of her very swollen belly. "Thalia, you're pregnant!"

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There were voices murmuring and someone was laughing while cool hands pressed against his cheek and brow. "Oh Peter, I tried to tell you."

Susan's gentle reprimand cut through the haziness, "Edmund, stop laughing and help us with him."

Another voice spoke, "I suppose we should be grateful he landed on the rug. Poor Peter."

"He'll be all right, Lu. The great lummox has survived worse falls than this little faint."

Peter slurred, "Didn't."

"Oh yes, you did, brother mine."

He pried his eyes open and glared at his pest of a brother. "No, I just lost my balance or something." Turning his head, he was immediately confronted with a large, round belly covered in a light shift. Swallowing hard, Peter carefully reached out to touch it. "I don't understand."

"Honestly, Peter, I thought you knew where babies come from."

He flushed while their sisters shouted, "Edmund!"

Peter shook his head in silent wonder but then his eyes widened as something happened. He felt something moving just before Thalia cried out. Yanking his hand away, he gasped, "What was that?"

His Flower didn't answer as she clung to her mother and Tuulea's hands. The Black Elder Nymph's dark eyes twinkled as she met his bewildered gaze. "That, my King, was a contraction."

Everything went dark again. The last thing he heard was Edmund's laughter. "Not fainting at all."

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He did not attempt to hide his eagerness to be home as he hurried to his quarters. It was yet fifteen minutes from midnight and he was certain that Alambiel would be awake. Opening the doors, he was somewhat surprised not to find his wife in the sitting room. The fire had already been banked. Oreius shut and locked the doors then stripped off his cloak, armor, and swords in deft silence. There was candlelight burning in their bedchamber, peeking under the door, but when he opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of his sleeping wife.

Oreius moved stealthily toward the bed, not wanting to wake her just yet. He arched an eyebrow as he took in the letter lying limply between her fingers and the others strewn around an empty box. There was also a new addition to the bedside table, a portrait of himself. As he gathered up the letters, he noted the signs of how deeply Alambiel had missed him were everywhere in their bedchamber yet she had rarely permitted a mention of her loneliness in her letters to him. She stirred as he slipped the letter from between her fingers but did not wake.

After putting the box of letters on her dressing table, Oreius returned to the side of their bed and leaned over his sleeping wife. He pressed a feather-light kiss against first one eyelid and then the other. There was a slight change in her breathing, but she still didn't wake. Alambiel shifted a little, turning her head to one side, exposing her neck. Oreius pressed another kiss against her neck. When she still didn't wake, he yanked the covers down.

He suppressed a laugh when that was what woke her. Still, he smiled down at her when she opened her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Wife."

Her gaze went from him to the waterclock, confirming it was still five minutes to midnight, and then she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Now this he had missed. Oreius wrapped both arms around her, lifting her off the bed, as he deepened the kiss.

Alambiel broke the kiss and slipped free of his embrace so she could sit on the mattress again. He smiled down at her. Unable to resist teasing her, he observed with mock seriousness, "That was a pleasant greeting. I should leave on long campaigns more often."

The little minx immediately hit him in his ribs.

Oreius grunted. "Well, perhaps not." Then, before his cheeky little wife could think of another way to express her displeasure, Oreius stole a kiss. He pulled the covers back up before getting into bed beside her. He caught Alambiel's questioning glance and knew she had noticed that he had cleaned up. He shrugged. "I didn't want to wake you before I could make up for it." He reached for her, pulling her close once more, relishing the feel of her in his arms, and kissed her again.

"Oreius," she breathed against his lips. "Oreius, I can't believe you're home. Finally." She pulled back slightly so she could look into his eyes and he could see the faint sheen of tears in her own eyes as she reached up to stroke his cheek. Alambiel gave a watery laugh. "What took you so long, anyway?"

"The Giants were stubborn." He trailed a hand up her back and over her braid, tugging at it until it was unraveled. Burying his fingers in her thick hair, he wrapped his other arm around her more tightly. "Did you stay out of trouble?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Of course, it helped that it was Susan and Edmund who kept ending up in the most trouble."

Oreius raised an eyebrow. "Prince Rabadash?"

"It can wait." Alambiel braced both hands against his chest and pushed him back against the pillows as she kissed him, peppering his face with her kisses now. "I'll give you boring reports about everything that's changed while you were gone tomorrow."

"That seems like a very pleasant plan, Sweet." Oreius paused then he reached up and unhooked the clasp of the pendant he had worn all through their separation. Taking one of Alambiel's hands, he placed the pendant in her palm then curled her fingers over it before placing a kiss against the backs of her fingers. "As promised, I have returned your dam's necklace to you and placed it in your hand myself."

Alambiel stared at the pendant and then she placed it on the bedside table. She stared down at him, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes filled with tears even as she smiled. "I'm so glad you're home, Kentauri."

Oreius tugged her back into his arms, holding her close as he peppered her face and hair with kisses. "I am very glad to be home. I have missed you, sweetheart." Tilting her face up, he ran his thumb gently against the curve of her jaw, and then captured her mouth with a kiss that he hoped expressed more clearly than words how he had longed for her while he was gone and how thankful he was to be with her again.

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"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Edmund glanced up from his law book, forcing himself not to grin at Peter's harried expression. His magnificent lummox of a big brother was pacing up and down the length of the sitting room, his hair all mussed from the number of times he had yanked on it. Edmund observed drily, "Thalia tried to tell you."

"No, I would have remembered if she had ever written to tell me she was pregnant. She never did. I-" He froze and then he whirled on Edmund, staggering slightly to one side due to the wound Babur had told him about while Peter was "not" fainting. His brother glared at him as he jabbed a finger in his direction. "It was you!"

"Me?" Edmund placed a hand over his heart. "Brother mine, what have I done to deserve such an accusation? And, what exactly am I being accused of?"

"You kept me from knowing my wife is pregnant!"

Edmund snorted. "I did not. I told Thalia she could tell you but she had to be very subtle about it since we didn't want any Giants finding out."

"She didn't tell me."

"Sure she did." Edmund turned the page and went back to reading over the past trade agreements between Narnian and Archenland. "She even showed me the flowers."

"Flowers?" The word came out in a half-strangled voice, making him look up in time to see his brother yank out the silly embroidered pouch Susan and Lucy had sent him from under his tunic. Peter dug in the bag and yanked out three dried flowers. " _These_ flowers?"

Edmund nodded. "Yup, although they were less crushed when Thalia showed them to me."

"But, they came on our anniversary."

"How nice." Edmund paused then stared at his brother who was gazing at the flowers as if he'd never seen their like before. "What did you think they meant?"

"They had two blossoms each," Peter muttered defensively. "I thought they were for our anniversary. We've been married six years you know."

"I remember." Edmund closed his law book and shook his head. "What a lummox you are, Pevensie. Your wife sends you three flowers after you knew she had been terribly ill and you just think it's for your anniversary."

He took great satisfaction in seeing Peter flush with embarrassment. His big brother groaned. "Thalia must think I'm an absolute idiot."

"Well, she probably won't but I will for her."

Peter glared at him. "That's not helpful."

Edmund just smirked.

"And, why was I the only husband on the campaign who wasn't allowed to know about my wife's pregnancy? There were a bunch of soldiers who learned happy news while I was busy trying to decide if Thalia was dying or something."

"Well, their babies aren't royals. Not to mention, Thalia wasn't dying. She just had a bit of food poisoning along with some sort of baby stuff that I deliberately tuned out whenever the girls discussed it."

"Ed!"

He gave his big brother an innocent look. "What?"

Whatever Peter was going to say was lost when they both jumped at Thalia's scream of pain. Peter blanched and was already running for the door by the time Edmund tossed the heavy law book onto the settee beside him. He leapt after his brother, grabbing him from behind and dragging him away from the door. He grunted when Peter elbowed him in the gut. "Quit it!"

"Thalia."

"Is busy giving birth. You heard Tuulea. We're not allowed to go in until they summon us." He shoved Peter back into the middle of the sitting room. He felt a twinge of sympathy at the haggard despair etching lines into Peter's face. Crossing to his brother, he gripped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Peter, she knows you're here. That's all she wanted for Christmas. For you to be here in time for the birth. She knows you're here, Peter, that's what counts. Trust me, Thalia will fare better knowing you're here and not off getting beat on by Giants or lost in a snowstorm."

"But, Eddie, she's in pain."

Edmund gave him a little shove. "Of course, she's in pain, lummox. She's giving birth to your child. I've been assured far more times than I care to recall that childbirth is very painful." He turned toward the door, then called over his shoulder, "Are you coming or not?"

"Coming where?"

"To get some food, of course. The only thing you've done since you came out of your swoon has been to shave and change your clothes."

Peter hesitated. "But what if something happens?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure Su will be more surprised if we don't raid the kitchens at some point. Besides, didn't Alithia tell you that it will be awhile yet." Edmund gestured to the waterclock. "It's barely second hour. And, I'm starving."

"Fine. But, we come back here as soon as we finish eating."

"Of course." Edmund managed not to seem too pleased to get his brother out of the royal wing. He really didn't want to have to go chasing him out of the birthing room again. He shuddered. Much as he loved his sister-in-law, he had no desire to watch her give birth, and he didn't want to drag Peter's deadweight out of the room again after he fainted. Again.

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Alambiel opened her eyes with a start. She scanned the room, uncertain of what had disturbed her, but nothing seemed out of place. She reached out behind her, wanting Oreius' reassuring presence, but her questing fingers brushed only against bedding. The mattress was cool.

She rolled over but there was no Kentauri. A band wrapped around her heart, squeezing painfully at the thought that- No, she couldn't have just been dreaming again. Tossing back the covers, she shivered in just her shift but didn't take the time to reach for a robe as she padded silently to the door. She opened it and immediately sagged against the doorframe as relief sapped the strength from her legs. Oreius looked up from the paper he was looking at and a familiar flicker of concern crossed his features as he dropped the paper to the table before he crossed to her. "Alambiel, what is it?"

"I thought-" She pressed her lips together, unwilling to voice the niggling fear.

Oreius cradled her face in his hands, studying her closely, as he asked in a gentle rumble, "What did you think, sweet? You looked terrified a moment ago."

Alambiel gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "I woke and you were gone. I feared I had only been dreaming of your return again." She reached up, wrapping her fingers around his wrists, feeling his warmth, the steady beat of his pulse, reassuring herself that it was too detailed for a dream. Still, she couldn't help asking in the softest whisper, "You're not a dream this time?"

"No." The Kentauri suddenly ducked his head and rubbed his nose against hers, startling a laugh out of her. He grinned. "Definitely not a dream, Alambiel." He pressed a light kiss to her temple and then lowered his hands, stepping back from her. "Now, I want you to explain what has happened while I've been gone."

"That's not where I was hoping the conversation would go," she quipped. Then she propped her hands on her hips. "And, it's too early for that very long list. I said I would tell you tomorrow."

"And, it is past fourth hour."

"Oreius." She shook her head. She still wasn't sure whether she'd give him advance warning of Cor's presence in Cair Paravel. It would be more fun if he learned on his own. She also didn't really want to talk about Thalia and the fact that the young Beech Nymph was due to give birth anytime now (she wouldn't be summoned for the birth unless it was absolutely necessary). "No. I am not spelling out everything that's happened over the last nine months at fourth hour." She paused, realizing he was grinning. "What's so funny?"

The Kentauri just shook his head, still grinning, but now there was a speculative gleam in his eyes. "You wish for me to confirm that I am truly home with you, do you, Wife?"

Alambiel frowned at him, a little wary, but then she just sighed and walked back into their bedchamber.

"Alambiel."

She stopped but didn't turn around as Oreius came up behind her. His chest brushed against her shoulder as he reached past her to pick up her mother's necklace. Then he fastened it around her neck. He brushed her hair back from her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he breathed in her ear, "Proof I've returned. Part of it, at least."

"So, what is the rest of your proof?"

"This." Then he started kissing his way down her neck, sliding her shift out of the way as he kissed along her shoulder. He spun her around to face him. His dark eyes no longer hid his emotions as she stared into them. He ducked his head to whisper in her ear, making her blush even as a delicious shiver ran down her spine. She willingly wrapped her arms around his neck and then lost herself in his kiss.

Definitely not a dream. Praise Aslan.

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Peter kept pacing. He glanced at Edmund, but his brother was sprawled on the settee, snoring loudly. The screams had finally stopped an hour past but no word had come. _Oh, Aslan. Oh, Aslan, please let Thalia be all right. Please. I don't want to have come home only to lose her. Please, Aslan, please._

It was after ninth hour. Sunrise peeked through the curtains, alerting him to the fact that it was a new day. Where was Tuulea? Where was Theia? What was taking so long? Why-

His thoughts were interrupted when Lucy poked her smiling face in the door. She glanced at Edmund, giggled, and then beckoned to Peter. He almost tripped over his own feet trying to get to her. "Thalia?"

"Come on, she wants to see you."

Peter didn't wait to hear anything else. He sprinted past his sister, past the grinning guards, and dashed into his quarters. Susan and Alithia were gone. Tuulea merely smiled at him as she nodded to the door. Peter ran through, stumbling to a halt when he saw the bed. Theia was standing at the head, blocking his view, but then his mother-in-law stepped back and allowed him to approach.

Thalia, his sweet Flower, was lying propped up against a mound of pillows. Her hair was damp and she looked utterly exhausted but a new light shone in her eyes as she gazed down at the bundle in her arms. Peter stared at her, drinking in the features of his wife like a man who had just reached an oasis after years in the desert. "Thalia."

She looked up and a weary but joyous smile greeted him as she held out one hand to him. "My Peter, you came home in time."

Peter crossed to her and, taking her hand, pressed fervent kisses to her fingers. "Thalia, Thalia, Thalia," he whispered hoarsely. "Forgive me for being so dense. I didn't realize what you tried to tell me."

She shushed him and then slipped her hand from his. Her smile grew even brighter as she carefully lowered one side of the blanket. "Look, Peter. This is your son."

"My son," he echoed breathlessly. The little chap's chubby cheeks were visible but his eyes were closed. Peter glanced at Thalia and then tentatively touched his son's warm skin. "Hello."

"Would you like to hold him?"

Peter nodded numbly as he sat on the mattress next to her and held out his arms. His shock wore off when Thalia placed the baby, his son, in his arms. He gave a little chuckle as he felt how heavy the babe already was. He was a chubby fellow. Peter gazed down at his son and his heart swelled with love. "Hello, son. I'm your daddy. You know, I didn't learn about you until you were coming into this world but your mummy is forgiving me for it. I hope you won't hold it against me either." He paused, choking up. He had a son. After six years and the unspoken fear that he and Thalia would never have children, they were finally blessed with a beautiful, fat baby boy. "I have a son. Thalia, we have a son."

She laughed through her own tears. "I know."

Peter kissed the top of the babe's head. "Thank You, Aslan."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! So, Peter's home and Oreius is home and look, baby. :D Only the epilogue left. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**

 **A/N2: Merry Christmas!**


	54. Epilogue: Christening

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Epilogue: Christening

1 Nor'Wind 1014

Edmund stood next to his sisters, watching as the Centaur prophet Stormseer pronounced a blessing on his nephew. Young William Vidar Pevensie (named for both grandfathers, poor kid) was not at all impressed with the austere moment of his christening. At first, he had lain quietly in Thalia's arms, sleeping away in happy ignorance of the large crowd gathered to witness the first public presentation of the crown prince of the Golden Age. Then Thalia had handed him to Peter for the christening. Edmund's ears were still ringing from the unhappy screech that had produced.

Fortunately, William had settled slightly when Peter bounced him a bit. He had even been fairly quiet when Peter surrendered him to the prophet with the exception of one unhappy squawk, of course. Edmund studied his nephew. The little lad was a big baby, all chubby cheeks, arms, chest, and legs. He had a feeling the babe would grow to be as big as his father. He glanced at William's bald crown. Hopefully, he'd grow into some hair along the way. Until then Edmund was going to tease his brother for all he was worth…when Susan wasn't close enough to smack him for it.

William had been almost quiet as Stormseer pronounced the blessing but now Edmund could see his nephew's chubby hand curling into the Centaur's flowing golden brown beard. Uh-oh. He recognized that look. The babe had done the same thing to Vidar only last night. A moment later, the wee rascal yanked on the Centaur's beard twice. Stormseer finished speaking the blessing without even the slightest of pauses. William responded to this unwavering decorum by yanking again and then letting a mighty howl.

Edmund bowed his head, trying hard to stifle his laughter. Susan elbowed him and he snickered as William let the entire crowd know that his lungs were perfectly functioning. However, laughter swelled in response to the little prince's ire as their people continued to enjoy the child's healthy outlook. Edmund smirked at Peter who was struggling to keep his own amusement in check. As soon as they met each other's eyes, both brothers snorted and had to look away immediately before they lost all decorum and drew Susan's wrath.

Stormseer chuckled as he easily untangled William's fist from his beard. "Aslan has blessed you and your wife with a strong colt, High King."

Grinning as he accepted the bellowing baby, Peter bowed his head. "He has, Stormseer." He winced as William let out another howl. "However, he doesn't seem to like anyone except his mother at times."

Edmund smirked as Peter carefully handed the baby to Thalia whose touch seemed to have an even more effective calming influence than she had over his father. Peter laughed. "See?" Seeming to remember his manners, his lummox of a brother quickly turned back to the seer. "Will you not join us for the rest of the celebration, Stormseer? Your company is always welcome."

The Centaur bowed gravely, though his silver eyes twinkled. "I am most pleased to accept your invitation, High King."

Peter grinned. "Good."

However, Stormseer spoke before his brother could turn to address the gathered crowd. "High King Peter, Princess Consort Thalia, hear now my final blessing on this day." Everyone stilled, even William paused in his fussing, as every eye turned to Aslan's chosen prophet. The Centaur raised his hands over Peter and Thalia's heads, his sonorous voice ringing out clearly, "This day has witnessed the blessing and naming of the son gifted to you by Aslan. Remember that your son is a blessing and that his guidance in life, in knowledge, and in service is the burden you now bear as his parents. May you be strengthened in the task of raising your son, William Vidar Pevensie, to know and to serve the Great Lion." He turned his attention on the assembled crowd as he added, "And, may the Great Lion bless and strengthen you all as you serve Him."

As the prophet stepped to the side, Peter moved to stand at the edge of the dais while Thalia carried her fussing son to one of the private rooms behind the dais. Edmund watched as his brother grinned like an idiot before he happily called out, "Friends, Thalia and I thank you all for coming to celebrate with us the birth of our firstborn and to witness his christening. Celebrate further with us! For we do not celebrate only the birth of our son, though I would appreciate it if you did not tell my wife that." He grinned as the crowd laughed and Edmund rolled his eyes at Peter's idea of a joke. But, his big brother kept talking, more serious now as he accepted a goblet from one of the servants and held it out. "For we also come together to celebrate the end to a long campaign, to the families who waited for us, to the soldiers who gave all for Narnia, and the loved ones whose faith and encouragement enabled us to press on to the end. We celebrate sacrifice and victory. We give thanks to Aslan for His protection, for His blessing of wisdom to those of us on campaign and to those who remained behind to guard Narnia and her allies." Peter paused, his gaze settling on Edmund, and he inclined his head slightly before he raised his goblet high and shouted, "Feast, dance, and be merry!"

That seemed to be all that was needed to signal the Narnians that it was time for feasting and dancing and merrymaking.

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Alambiel couldn't stop her grin as Oreius wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his side, as they watched the dancing. Peter and Thalia were stealing a dance while Susan cooed over Baby William. Lucy and Tarrin swept by. She wondered if he was ever going to reach a point where he could tell Lucy how he felt about her without swallowing his tongue. Time would tell. Edmund was chasing Corin away from the cake. The Kentauri tightened his hold on her and she glanced up at him, still grinning. "Whatever happened to being subtle and strategically disinterested?"

Oreius looked down at her and smiled. "I think it has been long enough that everyone should be reminded that you are my wife and still not available."

She laughed. "You know there aren't that many foreigners in court, right?"

"It does not signify." He suddenly released her waist but before she could complain of the action, he took her by the hand and guided her toward the assembled dancers.

Alambiel smirked. "Is this what new godparents do to celebrate?"

"Perhaps." He glanced down at her, his gaze intense and the emotions within barely hidden. He lowered his voice as he added, "Yet I find it most suited to celebrating coming home to my beautiful wife."

A blush warmed her cheeks but she still smiled as she allowed Oreius to sweep her into the movements of the dance. Maybe they would be able to get some long awaited peace now that the Giants' threat had been removed.

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The Hag crept through the cavern until she entered the ice-covered room. The figure before her did not turn and she could glimpse nothing of the northern witch's features due to the voluminous cloak. She did not trust this witch. She killed as many of her sisters in the Nest as taught them the darker, more powerful magics. Yet, her Matriarch had instructed her to come with the news. She dared not disobey.

She clacked her beak, drawing her own cloak closer as though it might protect her as she delivered the potentially fatal information. "They still live. Lew's Daughter and the Four. A new prince has been born to the High King."

The cloaked witch did not move. But then her voice sliced through the air like a knife, "The Great Lion used different means to protect them than was expected. He will not be able to stop us for long. Neither the line of Frank nor that of the Four will live past Midsummer's Eve."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Thus ends another entry in the A Light in the Darkness series. Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story! A special thank you to WillowDryad for not only letting me borrow her Tigers, Bast and Babur, and the Centaur prophet, Stormseer, but also betareading and cheering me on during the writing of this story. As we end another year, I head into an even more busy time of my life. As such, it will be awhile before I start the next main story (but I do have one planned so don't give up on me). Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this chapter and the story. Until our next meeting, I bid you adieu.**


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